The Difference Between Bravery, Loyalty, and Fear
by Spellshadow98
Summary: Severus Snape's niece is kidnapped by Voldemort and is given a mission. She finds herself at an ultimatum: having to choose between bravery to defy Voldemort and loyalty towards her family. But in Silwen's eyes, which is which and which goes to whom?
1. An Ultimatum

Author's note: So, if you've read my other story, this is in a different parallel universe! But the characters are the same from the other one. Sorry for the confusion. This one starts around when Harry and Hermione visit Godric's Hollow.

"I have a gift for you." Lord Voldemort's bone-smooth fingers held a small, deathly pale package in them. Silwen shook softly as she eyed the thing. "I got you a gift, little Slytherin. Aren't you going to say thank you?" Looking up, she didn't bother to mask her fear on her face behind a wall.

"I cannot lie, my Lord." Eyes narrowing, he deposited the package on her bed. Then he flicked his wand at her immobilized arms and allowed them to move.

"Open it," he hissed, a smile leering on his lips-a smile sharper and crueler than a poingard. Dry, cracked, and trembling fingers undid the string and then ripped open the wrapping parchment as silently as she could. A small silver locket slipped onto her withered dress. No, it wasn't Slytherin's locket. It was a trinket; possibly made out of silver, but nothing more than a trinket-nothing of monetary value.

"Look inside, Miss Greengrass."

With fumbling fingers, she opened the locket's latch and stared. A picture of...of her Uncle Snape. Then another one. Draco. And lastly, a crumpled photo of her parents. Alive and well-happily oblivious to their impeding demise, now a distant memory of Silwen's. With a snap, she closed the locket with the pictures inside.

"I thought perhaps you needed to be reminded of the people you are protecting. You will go through with my plans, Silwen," he whispered in his voice colder than apathy.

"I-I..." she began, then stopped. This time, she forced her face into a mask completely void of any emotion. His hands smoother than a new-born child's skin took hers in his, and he stared with mocking eyes into her eyes. With every fiber she possessed, she made herself remain immobile, and fixed her eyes on the locket. Viciously jabbing his wand at her, Voldemort forced her back into a ramrod position, and froze her arms in her lap. She was petrified, and for the first time since she had "arrived" here, not of her choice.

"You will not fail me. Your uncle and Draco are downstairs, with Bellatrix keeping them company." Feigning sympathy, the Dark Lord took of the Petrification spell on her head, allowing it to move, and reached over to stroke her face with a long, delicate finger, laughing lightly at the minuscule tremble that struggled to escape her flawless composure. "If anything goes wrong, neither of them will survive." He leaned in, his crimson eyes right beside her ear. Inhaling, he played with a lock of her midnight hair. "You understand this, don't you, Silwen? But of course you do. You are my once Severus Snape's niece." With the awful proximity between her and Lord Voldemort, she could not stop a whimper fleeing from her parched lips, and a tear from her right eye.

However, she nodded. Yes, she understood. Yes, she knew the consequences of both outcomes. The question was, which one would she choose?

"All I want is the Elder Wand, resting with Dumbledore in his tomb. Bring it to me, and spare the lives of those you love. Failing to do so will bring their deaths, and make you my little shadow until your last living breath," whispered Voldemort, lips brushing Silwen's earlobe. Silwen's eyes closed and another frightened tear skidded down her cheek. Suddenly, the imprisoning her feet to the wall with only a meter to spare didn't feel so glacial compared to his touch.

"With this wand, I will finally have control. All you have to do is fetch it, little Slytherin. Fetch it and set your family free while enslaving the rest of wizardkind. Perhaps even the entire Malfoy family if I feel generous enough, and if you are quick enough."

"How long do I have to choose?" asked Silwen, her voice creaking like a rusty door in want of oil, after a moment of attempting to remember how to breathe.

"I will give you two hours to inform me of your choice." "Can I visit my uncle and friend?"

"If you come to a decision in an hour, I will give you the second hour to say goodbye."

"And if don't have a decision by the second hour?"

The Dark Lord's eyes raked her face. "Then I'll send someone up to...persuade you and give you an incentive to make up your mind within the next few minutes." Smoothly, Voldemort rose, lifted his spell over Silwen, and moved walked to the door.

"Why me? Why can't you obtain what you want by going yourself or by sending a Death Eater?" A high, humorless, frigid laugh ricocheted around the room, making the girl jump.

"Where is the amusement in that, little Slytherin? Why not coerce one of my ex-follower's family into aiding with the destruction of her world?"

An spontaneous feeling of fury flamed inside of Silwen when she heard what her purpose was. "Amusement? That's all I'm fit for? The Dark Lord's amusement?" Hysteria rose as Silwen went on, even though her voice remained in a whisper.

"Of course. ... That's all anyone is fit for. It couldn't be because of my casting ability, or because of my prodigious potion-brewing ability. Oh no, I'm chosen simply to let V-voldemort have his–his chuckle!"

Bored, Voldemort replied, "I will return in an hour and if you do not have an answer to my request, I will get an answer from you myself!" Slamming the door behind him, Voldemort strode out of the room.

Now alone, Silwen's tears didn't merely come one by one, but by ponds and ponds full.

Her family or her world? Which would be worse to loose? Which one could she afford? Unbidden, Harry popped into her mind. Of course, he'd choose to save the world–his friends would not let him choose them. Would Uncle Snape and Draco let her choose them? No. But she couldn't live without them. She'd die first.


	2. The Unbreakable Vow

It was true. She would rather die first. Was her death the solution to saving both choices? Of course she'd have to destroy the Elder Wand–or hide it for the Golden Trio to find. But that was too risky. How would she ensure the safety of Draco and her uncle? Surely, the Dark Lord would punish them by ending their lives, defeating the purpose of killing herself. Was there another way to save everyone with no deaths at all?

Voldemort would know a duplicate wand, so that option was immediately ruled out. If only–if only she could talk to her uncle. But she didn't. And if she didn't decide quickly, she might never see him or feel Draco's arms around her ever again. What was she going to do? Looking at the clock, she saw only half an hour remained until one hour was up. What if she stalled after two hours? What would he do?

Getting off her bed, Silwen paced rapidly around and around her room quicker and quicker with each round. Bump! A loose floorboard snatched her skirt and she fell down, hitting the ground hard. She didn't even notice the fall. There had to be a way out. There just had to.

"You're such a Hufflepuff, Sil. Potter deserves your uncle's torture." Draco often said this when they talked about Potions lessons, always adding that she was too kind for her own good. Now that kindness didn't know where to stand. Uncle Snape would tell her to break the wand, and let him and Draco die. Draco would tell her to run for it. What if...But time had run out, not letting her put the thought in concrete words.

* * *

With a whimpering creak, the door opened. Voldemort step through it and stood before her, shoes inches in front of her face. "So, little Slytherin, have you decided?"

"Yes." She lay on the floor, curling up into a ball. Prodding her delicately with his stiff, angular boots, the Dark Lord quietly, "So what is it?" "I will take the wand for you–under three conditions." "Excellent," he hissed, eyes gleaming. "I will give you an hour with Severus and Draco. Then you will leave. When you arrive at Dumbledore's tomb and have the wand in your possession, I will order my Death Eaters to allow Draco to return to his parents. When I have the wand in my fingers, I will grant Severus his freedom."Voldemort paused before he continued in a softer voice, kneeling down beside her, "What are your conditions?"

Eyes closed, fingers clenching one another, Silwen whispered, "One, the exact moment I tell you that I have the Elder Wand you set Draco free, and that you make that order irrevocable, meaning that you and any of your followers will not contact or harm him after that very moment. Two, neither of them will be harmed in any way until our...bargain is completed. Three, you will swear to these terms by an Unbreakable Vow."

"How...dare you suggest an Unbreakable Vow with me," he hissed, kicking Silwen sharply with the harsh boot's pointed edge. "Ouch," moaned Silwen softly, eyes scrunching together like they were magnets from opposite poles. "You dare to order me to release one of my prisoners?" Silence erupted. "Crucio." No agony on earth compared to the searing, buring, scorching pain that raked inside her body. Curling into a ball more compact than two atoms, she rolled around, screaming louder than Bloody Mary. Then, in moments, relief dropped.

Not even daring to breathe, Silwen slumped, trembling. The Dark Lord exhaled, his cold breath sending shivers down her spine as it touched her face. "It does not look like I will be able to convince you otherwise. And Draco wouldn't do the job half as well as you could. ... Very well. I accept your three conditions." Voldemort rose to his feet. "On your feet, little Slytherin." Turning to the hallway, he commanded, "Bellatrix! Bring in Draco and Severus!"

Voices and footsteps melded together as the three approached. When the arrived, Severus' eyebrows rose ever so slightly as he appraised his pallid niece. "Sil, what's going on?" Both of them had cracks on their faces, necks, hands, and any skin that showed. At least, once she left, they wouldn't be harmed again, Silwen thought.

"Bellatrix, the girl won't go without making an Unbreakable Vow with me. And I have sworn to do so." Bellatrix was shocked. Draco coughed, and Snape merely put his mouth into a line thinner than the horizon, eyes calculating. "My lord, are you sure you don't want to send me instead? An Unbreakable Vow–" "That is enough, Bellatrix. You are to bind us," Voldemort snapped. Facing the two bloodied prisoners, he said, "Draco and Severus, you are the witnesses." Now turning to Silwen, he reached forward, and forced her to clasp his arm as he clasped hers. Glaring at Silwen, Bellatrix preformed the beginning part of the spell and said, "Tell the Dark Lord your terms, girl." Shuddering at Voldemort's frigid touch, she stated her terms.

"Do you, Lord Voldemort, swear to let Draco free for the rest of his life and to ignore him for the rest of his life the exact moment I notify you that the Elder Wand is in my possession?" "I swear." "Do you swear that neither Draco Malfoy nor Severus Snape will be harmed and kept alive until our bargain is finished–including giving them meals at least once a day? Do you swear to release Severus Snape when you have the Elder wand in your possession?" A sneer slid onto the Dark Lord's lips as he heard Silwen's modifications, "I swear." "Then let it be finished," said Bellatrix. "Perhaps there is some Slytherin in you after all," murmured Voldemort as he strode out. "Bellatrix, let them have the rest of the hour to themselves. Remember, Silwen, at the hour's end, you will begin your mission." Silwen, massaged her arm, and nodded.

Slam! Bellatrix and Voldemort left the three alone.


	3. Bittersweet Reunification

Chapter 4

A/N: Hi readers! Thanks for reading my story and for keeping up with it! It means a lot! So, I was wondering if you had any input on my story. Anything you'd like to see differently? Anything that bothers you? I am very open to any suggestions you have-just leave a review for me! Thanks.

* * *

"Sil, no." Walking to Silwen, he put an arm around her waist, and they walked to her bed, and sat on it. Subconsciously, Draco's fingers laced them through hers. That was permissible in front of her uncle.

"I have made my decision, Draco. I cannot go back on it." Exhaling in jolts, she leaned into Draco's chest and closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating on calming her heart.

Severus stood in front of his niece and Draco, warning them. "It is likely that our conversation is not private." Eyes tight, the girl nodded.

"Uncle. I-I am so sorry. For everything. I-it's my fault for this. I will try to fix it."

Severus took a chair concealed in the corner of the room, dragged it over and lowered himself onto it, looking intently at Silwen. "This is not your fault."

Gently, Draco started to rub Silwen's hands, saying. "You know what I'd tell you, Sil. Do it." "Draco, be silent," snapped Snape. Worried eyes turn angry as they receive the rebuke from their old Potionsmaster, but Draco was silent.

"Silwen, the Unbreakable Vow you made with Voldemort was something I would have expected from someone like _Potter_! Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous that is?"

Silwen's eyes now turned stormy. "I couldn't leave you unprotected and this was the only way I knew I could do it! Uncle, the simple _promises_ I make are _exactly_ like an Unbreakable Vow, and you know it! So, yes I know _exactly_ what I've done! This way, at least, I'm on equal grounds with the Dark Lord!" Silence. Biting her lip, she continued in a softer voice, "I cannot even imagine life without the two of you. I'd rather die. It was the only way I could think of to secure your safety." As she spoke, tears slid down her pallid face; Silwen left them there, wanting to keep her hands in Draco's for as long as possible. With a sense of finality, she said, "I love you, Uncle, Draco. If you died because of me..."

"Shhh," murmured Draco, his eyes, too, were wet.

Rising from the chair, Severus sat on the bed, next to Silwen's free side. They didn't touch each other except for their shoulders pressing against one another since the tiny children-sized bed was barely able to hold the three of them. Yet he looked at her straight on, not wavering for a millisecond. "You are a _Snape_. Remember what I taught you before you could hardly speak. Intelligence, cunning, spellwork, and Occlumency."

Softly, Draco distanced himself a few inches, and for a fleeing moment, Severus pressed Silwen tightly to his side, wincing when she wrapped her arms around him with the strength of an anaconda-or that of a very, very frightened girl.

After allowing this for several moments, Severus then deliberately pushed Silwen away. He nodded at Draco, who hugged her to him once more, flinching at the force of her arms winding around his waist.

Silwen-who was absolutely _traumatized_ of physical contact-clung to Draco. Clung to him as if he was her savior. "I-I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking, tear drops landing on Silwen's hair. He couldn't save her. He knew that. But the truth was still excruciating. He was incapable of saving her beloved from saving him. Sticks and stones may have broken his bones, but the truthful words felt like they damned his soul. He couldn't protect Silwen.

His arms drew Silwen closer to him, trying to calm the shudders that Silwen couldn't stop herself from having.

* * *

Tick, tock, tick, tock, Driiinnngggg!

"Your time is finished. Bellatrix, escort these two back to their 'room'." Voldemort and Bellatrix stood in the doorway once more, leering. Panic began to rise inside of Silwen; instinctively, she grabbed Draco's hand.

"No. No! Please. A few more minutes! D-don't take-" She stopped suddenly, looking at Severus, and bit her tongue, ashamed of her desperate pleading, but still refusing to let go of Draco, who looked quite alarmed at the terror ringing clear as a bell in Silwen's voice.

"Let go of him, you brat, or I will put the Cruciatus Curse on him!" smirked Bellatrix.

Instantly, she dropped Draco's hand. "It's going to be all right, Sil. You're going to be ok," he said before Bellatrix shoved him forward.

"Don't you _dare_ put your life in more trouble than it is, do you hear me?" snapped Snape, his worry coming out in fury. Tears started coursing down her cheeks, and she attempted to run after them, only to be grabbed by Voldemort.

"NO!" she shrieked as Bellatrix forced them down the corridor-away from Silwen.

Struggling against the unyielding hold of the Dark Lord, she sobbed quietly, pressing away from her captor with all of the feeble strength she had left. "It is time for you to go and fetch me my wand, little Slytherin," Voldemort whispered, straining slightly to keep Silwen from breaking free.

"Stop this idiocy, girl. Now." That only made Silwen struggle harder, finally breaking free, only to collapse on the ground, tripping over her own feet. Again, she found herself at the Dark Lord, crumpled on the floor. "Get up!" he snarled, kicking viciously her in the chest. Silwen pretended not to hear-nor feel the injury-and pressed the locket to her chest with her hand. Focusing on how warm it felt gave her a pinch of strength, helping her to get to her knees. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she waited for her lungs to remember how to breathe.

Sharp fingernails gripped her forearms, dragging Silwen to her feet, then let go once she was standing. Still, she didn't look up; her lungs had barely recalled their purpose.

"Follow me," hissed Voldemort, letting go of Silwen, and striding over to a door at the hallway's other end. Unfortunately, Silwen didn't have the strength to stand on her own two feet yet. Her knees simply collapsed back onto the floor, not caring anymore if it angered Lord Voldemort.

Realizing that no footsteps besides his were heard, he swirled around. Walking back to Silwen, he bent down, grabbed her, his fingernails pricking her like a large, sharpened needle, and forced her to lean on his side. "Walk," he spat. She moaned, but had no energy to resist any further. Reaching the door, Voldemort opened it, then thrust Silwen outside, who stumbled, but managed to hold onto the outside wall. "If you haven't yet figured out where you are, you are at Malfoy Manor. From here you will fly as close as you can to Hogwarts, go to Dumbledore's grave, take the wand, contact me, then return here."

"How am I going to contact you with no wand?" she whispered.

Reaching into his robes, Voldemort pulled out Silwen's wand, taunting her. "No, you will not be given your wand back. Not until you come back with the Elder Wand. You will use the Elder Wand to contact me," he said, dangling her own want in front of her. The Dark Lord stepped outside of the house, so close to her that if Voldemort had a nose, their noses would have only been inches away.

Dropping her eyes, her fingers tried implored the frosty wall to protect her from Voldemort. "Mr. Riddle, I can hardly stand. You expect me to fly tonight?" Slap! "Ah!" she moaned, her strength too dilapidated to even muster a scream, even though she didn't lose her grip on the wall.

"Do not use my father's name, ingrate!" he hissed, eyes narrowing to livid slits. Despite his frozen fury, his skeletal index finger slowly stroked the contour of Silwen's face with convoluted grace. Whimpering softly, she closed her eyes, begging for the contact to stop. "Do not damage the Wand, little Slytherin, or I will kill your uncle and release his soul from the Manor." Her muscles jolted, and she found herself standing straighter than the edge of a peice of parchment. Leaning to whisper in her ear he murmured, "Remember that when you think of trying to outwit the Dark Lord." Entwining his finger in a thick curl her hair, he went on speaking. "Don't be so naive, little Slytherin. Nothing escapes the notice of the Dark Lord."

Not looking at his horrid eyes, Silwen retorted, "My uncle did-for several years."

Yank! Voldemort grabbed more of her hair, pulled vehemently, and set her off balance, causing her to fall into his chest. Knees going weak, she started to slip to the ground, only to be caught by his other arm and raised once more into his chest.

"I think I've found enough energy to leave, Mr. Riddle-ah..." Sharply, Voldemort cut her with one of his fingernails.

"Do not call me that again," he hissed. In vain, Silwen attempted to disentangle herself out of her new prison, but to no avail, Voldemort merely manacled her more and more tightly the more she tried. Finally, she surrendered. "I give you the choice of leaving tonight on foot or going tomorrow by broom, and spending the night here."

"I-I'll g-I'll go now. Just please, please, let go of me..." "Very well," he responded, voice more chilling than a banshee's cry.

Thwump. Crumpled on the ground, Silwen felt much sicker than she had after the Cruciatus Curse. It was futile now to do anything but lie there. It was obvious that she couldn't get up-let alone fly to the Hogwarts grounds. Kneeling down, Voldemort cleared her face of hair, combing through it with his fingers-they were perfect comb teeth: ivory-colored, skinny, and harsh with the knots. While Voldemort played with his prey, his prey lay there, curled up like a sleeping infant having nightmares so terrifying that she couldn't wake from them. Vainly, she tried to remember how to breathe without her voice breaking into a sob.

"What are your thoughts about leaving now?"

"I will sleep here, outside. Leave me alone, p-please," she pleaded, barely louder than a child's whisper.

Quickly, the Dark Lord rose, saying, "Be gone by daybreak." Silwen nodded and Voldemort, satisfied, went back inside.


	4. Christmas Eve

Chapter 5

The night's chill seeped into Silwen's bones as she leaned against the door, huddling in her frail fragments of school robes, trying fruitlessly to gain warmth. In the lamplight, she watched her breath ascend into the night sky like a frosty cloud. Even though she closed her eyes and felt her body gratefully accept the offer of rest, her mind still refused. Morning would come early, she told herself, but her mind stubbornly stayed awake like a petulant child avoiding consequences, sprinting around every corner of thought. Yet with each new turn, dread crept on her thoughts more and more often with dawn's dreaded approach.

Sighing, Silwen gave up her dream of sleep, smiling sadly at the Christmas Eve night,letting her body rest as her mind traveled to whatever star of thought it wanted to land on. As the night progressed, the chill soaked into her cloak, and soon made Silwen's teeth chatter far too animatedly to each other to be enjoying themselves. When they ended up biting her tongue, Silwen bravely exposed her fingers to the icy, biting, air and held her jaw silent. She tried to breathe warm air into her fingers, but even then her breath came out cold. With a shiver, she realized that she had no warmth in her to give to her fingers.

One hour had passed, she saw, looking at the moon's position. Only one hour. How many more would she be able to endure? Not very many before hypothermia arrived, judging by how she couldn't feel several of her extremities anymore. At least it wasn't raining or windy-she wouldn't have lasted for more than two hours. _Count hippogriffs_, she thought. Perhaps something that boring could lull her to sleep.

Then suddenly, CREAK. The door swung open, letting a blast of warm air rush over Silwen, who fell back-almost onto the floorboards in shock, when warm arms caught her at the last second. "Happy Christmas, Sil," whispered a voice. A voice like a small candle in a freezing room. A voice filled with worry, and love. Not Voldemort's. Not Dumbledore's. And regrettably not Snape's. Yet Silwen was too weary to listen to her uncle's intense manner of speaking when things were at their worst. What she needed was someone...soft like embers, not scorching like a fire... What she needed was-

"Draco. How–why are you out here?" she said in a whisper that creaked worse than the door. Draco sat down beside her, wrapping themselves in a heated blanket he brought with him.

"The Dark Lord sent me to show you exactly why you want to succeed and what you will lose if you fail." Just listening to him brought strength back into her depleted body.

"I know already what I'm risking if I-if I fail. He's just playing the carrot-donkey game."

"You aren't going to fail, Sil. Everything is going to be all right."

In response, Silwen leaned against Draco's shoulder, remaining silent.

Attempting to quiet Silwen's fears, he wrapped his arm around Silwen and she then leaned into his chest, letting all of her remaining tears flood onto Draco and the blanket. For some time, Draco held her in silence, letting his beloved cry on his shoulder. The warmth emulating from Draco melted slowly into Silwen, replacing the chill that before was irrepressible. The night turned into a happier one and far more pleasant for the both of them; they were together–if only for a few hours.

"I can't lose you, Draco. And I can't lose my Uncle."

He rested his head against hers and replied, "You won't have to. I will be set free when you get the wand, and Severus will survive this. If anyone can, it's him or no one–or you. But you will survive your part. You have to."

New tears of his own splashed on top of Silwen's silken hair as he imagined the possibility of losing her if he was in her place.

"But you don't know that. I may have great casting skill–but I don't have my wand, Draco. Without it, I'm completely defenseless! I'm Voldemort's... Voldemort's entertainment, and all he wants from us–me is a good show," she whispered.

"Sil! Don't diminish yourself! You are so much more than just spells and 'entertainment'!" He paused, then went on, blushing. "Did you know, I've noticed and loved how you care about the losing Quidditch team. And what about your potions? I _know_ that only half the potions you learned, you learned from Severus or from any other teacher! The other half you taught yourself! You are _so much more_ than Voldemort's pet!"

Disparagingly, Silwen replied, "All great playwrights have memorable characters and unique abilities as well as curses."

Angrily, Draco turned Silwen face to face, his blue eyes flashing in righteous indignation. "Stop it! Stop–"

Then suddenly Silwen cut him off, kissing him softly on the lips, smothering the rest of his admonishment. Just as softly, Draco responded. Gently, he drew her her nearer to him. After a few seconds, they broke off, smiling in the night.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked. "I can sing you to sleep if you'd like." Playfully, Silwen shuddered.

"Preferably not, I've had enough donkey's brays and crow's caws in the past mon_ths_ to last me until at least next June. ... I dare you to fall asleep first," she chuckled. "The first one asleep wins a galleon."

"Fine," he murmured, hugging her to his waist with both arms, pulling her almost onto his lap. Timidly, Silwen's arm reached around his waist and strengthened their connection.

"Good night, my darling." "Good-good night, Draco." Draco did not sing, but he hummed softly, his chest moving up and down, rocking her to sleep.

For a few hours, it felt like nothing was wrong. As if when tomorrow's morn would come, and they'd wake up in the Slytherin Common Room-as if everything was normal. It felt like a shared dream, a past almost forgotten, but forever felt in their hearts. Together the were sustained by the other, cherished by the other, complete.

As the morning rays hit, bringing a new day, Silwen felt her heart was wrench itself in twain as she left on the broom, leaving part of her heart with the sleeping boy that had stolen it. It took every atom in her mind to will her body to rise, and to wedge herself out of her sanctuary. On her knees, she gently combed his night tousled hair, and kissed his forehead lightly enough so she did not wake him. If he woke, it would be nigh impossible to leave him.

No tears came; no tears equated her feelings of loss, of anxiety. As Silwen flew away, she did not dare to glance back, squashing the temptation to do so. To look once more on the face she loved. She feared that if she did, Draco like Eurydice, would be forced to disappear. And Silwen would rather remember him sleeping there, waiting for her, than gone. She wanted to remember him asleep and in peace, not awake and distraught.


	5. Grave Arrivals

Chapter 6

Accusingly, the fierce wind's fingers attempted to impede her progress as she flew back to the Hogwarts borders. But Silwen fought through the wind, flying quickly–more quickly than she ever had before, and arrived at the grounds. Hiding the broomstick in a tree, she walked to the Dumbledore's beautiful, horrible tomb. In that tomb lay her "Hogwarts Nanny", and from that tomb, she'd steal the most powerful wand on earth. Steal? But that was dishonest. Could she? Was it possible...?

Unbidden, a flashback entered her mind from when she was three. Snape going to the door. Looking in at his potion–a beautiful, shimmering, silver Veritaserum frothing ever so slightly over the cauldron's rim. Wanting to touch it. Climbing a chair to do so. SPLASH. Feeling like she was drowning for a century in the cauldron. Panicked hands yanking her out, hands lying her down, and pressing on her chest until she started coughing and chocking.

Since that day, Silwen had never been able to lie, or go against school rules, or break a promise. Or do anything that wasn't honest. Was is possible for her to actually take Dumbledore's wand? She doubted it. Then suddenly, Silwen stopped moving.

Voices from near the tomb tumbled off the wind into her hearing range. Was that... "Even though it's good to see ya, 'Arry, ya shouldn't be 'ere." Hagrid.

"I had to, Hagrid. I had to see him again." Harry Potter and Hagrid. Here. Now. _No. Not today. Not now._ If she didn't go through with this today, then she'd never go through with it. All at once, an idea crept inside her.

Perhaps she could get them to take the wand out of the tomb. She just had to come at it correctly. It wasn't as if they trusted her-the niece of Snape. But she had to try. At least, they knew about her problem with lying. Or what if...Yes. She figured it out.

Stepping purposely on dry twigs in her way, she crept up to the tomb, enjoying the shock on their faces. However, that fleeting enjoyment was gone in moments when Harry spoke. "What are you doing here, Snape?"he spat suspiciously, his eyes glaring at her.

"I'm going to try to take Dumbledore's wand." If the circumstances hadn't been so grave, Silwen would have burst out laughing at their incredulous expressions. "Good morning, Professor Hagrid."

He grunted in reply. "I'll be leaving, Harry. Be...careful."

"Goodbye, Hagrid," said Harry, rising to give him a hug. Hagrid nearly chocked him, then let him down and lumbered off, back to the Hogwarts grounds.

"I can't let you take Dumbledore's wand, Snape," said Harry, still glaring at her.

Silwen glared back. "As it so happens, I can't take it. I can't steal it."

"Then why come?" he asked coldly.

"I-he-I-I had little choice. I didn't realize that I wouldn't be able to touch his wand, let alone steal it until moments ago."

"Little choice? That's what you're calling theft now, Snape?"

"Stop calling me that! I have a first name, Harry! And yes, little choice! With the lives of Draco and my uncle on the line, I have little choice. I-I won't be able to go on if they die."

"Who's holding your precious 'family' hostage? I want to congratulate them," he replied, snidely.

"Then go congratulate Voldemort. Go tell him you're so proud of what he's done. Go watch the murder of my uncle Draco and sing praises to Voldemort then, if you want."

Taken aback, Harry's hostility thawed.

"Oh."

Tears welled in Silwen's eyes, spilling over onto her cold-pinched cheeks. "Please, Harry. Please, help me."

Harry's eyes hardned again, but they did not glare. "I won't help you steal from Dumbledore-even if he's dead."

Sinking onto a frost-bitten log, Silwen started to sob quietly. "What if you took the Elder Wand and kept it with you? Dumbledore would have wanted you to have it, Harry. Just let me use the wand for a _moment_, telling Voldemort that I have it, then Voldemort will set Draco free. Once Voldemort is informed, I will hand it back over to you."

Silwen paused for a moment, trying to regain some composure, then went on. "Look. Draco isn't capable of surviving from being Voldemort's prisoner, but my uncle is. I know that you and him are bitter enemies, and I may be little less, but not even Draco deserves to be murdered." He looked at her, considering his options, and idly wondering why she had no fear of uttering Voldemort's name. "You can even put it back after-after..." Emotion stuck itself in her throat, clogging it, and not letting her finish her sentence.

"All right. I'll do it," he said roughly. Silwen stood up and stepped back, giving him full range of motion. Trembling slightly at what she was going to do, she watched him carefully remove the marble slab covering the grave, and _accio_ the Elder Wand out of the dead Dumbledore's apathetic fingers. Then, he gave the wand to Silwen.

"Messagum Patronus Voldemort: I have the Elder Wand in my possession. Let Draco go. End message," she said to her Patronus, a dove. "So, now, I can return it?" asked Harry.

New tears arrived and fell off her cheeks as Silwen said, "I'm so, so sorry Harry. I promised to give Voldemort the wand." "Ex-" began Harry, but Silwen was too quick for him. "_Petrificus totalus_!" she shot, and Harry's limbs stuck together instantly. Accusingly, he glowered at her.

"I'm sorry. ... Honestly. Wait. Dissilusio. At least no one will find you here. Do you want me to alert Hermione?–I know you two and possibly Ronald Weasley are up to something. You always are."Still glaring, Harry's eyes nodded. "_Messagum Patronus Hermione Granger_: Harry's in a bit of an invisible fix at Brian's place. End message." Quickly, she let Harry hold on to the wand for a second-fufilling her promise of giving it to him after she had sent Dumbledore a message.

"If anyone heard that message, they wouldn't suspect anything. Brian is one of Dumbledores's middle names. I only hope she knows that." Harry looked slightly relieved at the code. "Please understand." ...His scowl didn't relent. "I promise you, I will try my best to postpone Voldemort's fingers meeting the Elder Wand. I'll be cheering for your mission's completion. ... Down with the dictator."

Silwen walked to her broomstick, got it out of the tree and hopped on it, flying slowly. She was so tired. So, so tired. Last night had been a paradise, but her odd sleeping position had done something to her joints, which were now complaining for her to stop and rest.

_Rest. Shelter. Inn. Hogshead._ Turning a little off course, she headed to Hogsmeade. Arriving there, she got off the broom, and scurried to the Hogshead, quickly casting a Disguisement Charm on herself before she entered. Thankfully, the pub was completely bare of customers. The only movement came from the barkeeper.

"I'd like to book a room, please," she said to the barman.

"7 galleons a night," he snarled habitually at her, not bothering to look up from cleaning his glass. Galleons. Money. She had none.

"What if I work today for my keep?" That caused the barkeeper to look up. Inspecting her face, he nodded. "You look well enough. Get behind the counter, girl. Your work starts now."

Taken aback, it took a moment for her to register the brief orders. "Now, before I change my mind."

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly, and going to "behind the counter."

"You can put your travelling cl-never mind."

Silwen nodded. She had no cloak. Just the robes on her. Tattered, conspicuous-"School robes!" hissed the man. "Get into the kitchens!"

"Yessir," she squeaked, scurrying to follow his orders. The bartender followed her in there.

"Are you insane, girl? Wearing school robes in the local pub that the Carrows and other Death Eaters go to? The pub that Snatchers converse at? They'll snatch_ you_ as soon as they see you!"

Silwen froze. How had she forgotten? But she couldn't wear anything else; she had nothing else.

"I don't suppose you have anything else to wear?" Looking panicked, she shook her head. "Wait here. I will be right back."

He stomped off up the stairs, muttering irritably to himself. Would he sell her out? She wondered worriedly to herself. Surely, he wouldn't give her to the Snatchers-not after talking like that. Could she bribe him, maybe? What if he cast her out for his own safety? Silwen didn't have the strength to fly to Diagon Alley and seek refuge there. She began to pace, stopping abruptly. What if he told the Carrows who in turn realized who she was and what she was supposed to be doing? If that happened, she had no doubt that Voldemort would find a way around the Unbreakable Vow and harm her uncle.

"Try these on." The greasy barkeeper had returned, holding an ancient, faded, slightly stained bundle. Stepping forwards to take the it, she looked at his face. Meeting his eyes, she stared. She knew those eyes. Those were-no. Impossible. Dumbledore's eyes were dead. "Try them on now, before I throw you outside," he said gruffly.

"Will you tell them? Will you tell anyone? Will anyone suspect anything with my sudden arrival?" she whispered, petrified.

"No to answer all of your questions. Now change and start working before I decide you are too much trouble to keep."

"Yessir. Er, where is a lavatory?" He pointed to a small, stinking hallway that had a room at the end of it, and strode back to the bar outside of the kitchen. Before he saw her, she put the charm back on herself.

Waisting no more time, she changed into the clothes, which fit her well enough, if only a little bit big. In the groggy, grease-stained mirror, her reflection stared back at her. By now, her hasty Disguising Charm had worn off. Large, fear-consumed eyes peered out at her, almost sallow skin glowed eerily, black hair stuck in all directions and too-prominent cheekbones stuck out of her face. She looked like a banshee. A terrified banshee. If she wasn't so scared, she would have smiled at the irony; a banshee terrified, not terrifying. Yet when she combed her hair, and calmed down a little, her cheeks warmed, softening her reflection. Now, she looked more human.

She exited the lavatory, and walked to her new employer. "Presentable," gruffed the barkeeper. "Now go take orders from my customer." She jumped, turning to face her temporary employer, then did as he had bidden her; someone had stomped inside. With very little confidance, she walked over to the odd-looking man.

"May I have your order, Sir?"

"A little young to be working here, no?"

"Yes. But I'm quite capable, sir." An incredulous look crossed the stranger's face, but not one of recognition. Good.

"Indeed. I will have an ale as well as anything that's still edible."

"Very well." The man left her alone after that, and eventually left the inn when he had paid.

...

The day continued like that, until at it's very end, from exhaustion, Silwen tripped and fell onto the lap of a well-to-do customer. "Aberforth, I didn't know you had hired someone new. Quite a pretty little thing, isn't she?" he said, a leer resting on his lips as he helped her to her feet, keeping her hand in his.

"Touch her again, Ruke, and I'll throw you out!" spat the barkeeper.

Slouching, the customer nodded and gave Silwen his order, eyes still on Silwen, debating whether she was worth it.

"Please, sir, if I could have your order?" she murmured, not meeting the man's eyes, her fingers shaking a tad.

"Why, I thought I had made obvious, Miss." She looked up, then struggled to get her hand out of his grip, her heart racing at the lustful glint in his eyes.

BAM. With a hex, Aberforth threw Ruke from the pub. "I told you, Ruke. Go find somewhere else to drink if you're going to behave like that!" Aberforth shouted from the door. Out in the cold, Ruke cursed, but stalked off, much to Silwen's relief.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Your shift is over. I've given you Room 10."

"Again, thank you."

"Go."

Not waiting any longer, she hurried upstairs, went to her room, bolted the lock shut then proceeded to go through every sort of protection charm she knew. Once finished, she collapsed on the ground, not daring to sleep in the bug-infested bed. Those eyes, and that name...Aberforth...she knew she had heard it before, long ago. However, sleep pounced on her, and stopped her from adding the name and eyes together in a conscious state.

However, in her dream, Dumbledore was talking to her, showing her a secret passageway behind the one-eyed witch. His eyes-Dumbledore's–-Aberforth's-they were the same! "Dumbledore! Aberforth Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, smacking her forehead with her palm. Aberforth, Albus Dumbledore's younger brother. Interesting.

Then chiding herself she muttered, "It's none of my business." And left it at that, satisfied enough with discovering who the bartender was. Once more, she fell asleep and did not wake up until a clock went off at 7 a.m.


	6. Home is Where the Heart is

Chapter 7

Author's Note(s):

Hi everyone! Thanks so much for adding me to your author alerts, and for my reviews! Every time I check, I do a happy dance and squeal like a five year old getting a present! You guys are wonderful!

So, I need your help... I have a very important question: do think Silwen to be a Mary Sue?

Now, enough of my random ramblings.

* * *

Beep-beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep-beep! Fumbling in shadows, Silwen's fingers slapped the alarm clock, shocking it into silence...For five minutes at least until it started to bother her once more, only to receive another slap. It was five thirty, much too early to wake up. But the irritating thing with her was once she was woken, she couldn't get to sleep after.

It was interesting. The soreness from sleeping on the ground was fainter than she was prone to expect. Perhaps she had developed calluses from the uncomfortable sleeping positions from the months of sleeping on the ground. Musing to herself, Silwen combed her hair with her fingers, washed her face in the sink, grabbed the room's key, checked that she still had the Elder Wand–-secured it in her new clothes, and went downstairs.

Unsurprisingly, the pub was empty except for a few knocked-out drinkers from the previous night. Aberforth however, was up. Cleaning a mug of beer that seemed to get dirtier each time he wiped it with his rag, he shot his eyes at her for a moment.

"Key," he ordered. Stepping over to him, she leaned over the bar and handed it to him.

"Thank you, Sir. ...erm, about the clothes-"

"Keep them."

"Thank you."

Aberforth nodded gruffly then responded, "Don't let me see you here again. Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir. Good bye sir," Silwen replied nervously, as she stepped through the door.

The morning was clear, yet refreshingly chilling-like stepping into a freezing shower in the middle of summer. From the back of the road, she heard something. It was like listening to a whispered conversation from across an empty auditorium. Slowly, the noise, now distinguishable as voices approached. "Silwen Snape? Out of _our_ Manor? _Alone_?" Dress flying, Silwen whirled around. Lucius. Narcissa.

"Yes and yes."

"How goes the mission?"

"Half-completed. Draco is free."

Smiling faintly, Narcissa drew herself and her husband nearer. "We know. He's staying in our mountain cabin. Thank you, Silwen." Silwen nodded, turning her face away.

"I must complete the other half. Give Draco my love."

"You shouldn't return to our manor so soon, Silwen. Take a few months to recuperate, my dear," admonished Narcissa, trying to smile, but ending up with an awkward curve on her face instead.

"Perhaps you are right...I think I'll head back to my home for a few weeks," replied Silwen thoughtfully.

"Alone?" asked Lucius sharply.

"Yes. I can defend myself perfectly fine, thank you," Silwen answered stiffly.

"What if you came to the cabin to visit Draco?" asked Narcissa, an actual smile crawling across her lips this time–even if it was rather sly.

"I-I don't know...I think I need a bit of time to sort things out..."

"Well, the cabin is always welcome to you, if you want to come see him. He's worried about you." There was a pause, with Lucius muttering something to his wife. "It's time we head back to the cabin as well. I hope to see you soon, Silwen," said Narcissa, as Lucius led her down the road.

"Good luck," he called softly.

CRACK. They Disapparted to their cabin, safe from harm. Safe because of her. Because she had done something for Voldemort. By doing something wrong, did she do something right? And if she had done something wrong, would she _really_ have done something right? Rubbing her head, Silwen stopped thinking about ethics. In a war, nothing was ever black and white–-in fact, in a wizard's war, most of it was black cloaks versus different black cloaks.

Silwen tended to wear deep marine colors. It was rare that she wore green, wanting to save it for special occasions like the Yule Ball. For the ball, Draco had worn dress robes gorgeous enough to make even the invited orchestra jealous (who had worn stately robes of black and white), and Silwen (whose robes had been paid for by Draco's parents for the occasion) had worn a dress of a jocund jade-–perfectly matching her eyes...She smiled at the memory of Draco's eyes on her in awe, at the eyes of almost every boy in the Great Hall gaping at her... Even one of the Weasleys had been caught staring at her-a Slytherin. Shaking her head, Silwen slipped out of the sweet memory and returned her thoughts back to current dress.

A tired, faded, black it was, but it fit her well enough._ This must have been Adrianna's dress_, thought Silwen, suddenly somber. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, another memory made her travel once more into the foggy Memory Lane. Dumbledore had only mentioned Adrianna once, but Silwen had never forgotten the name nor the girl-–both had sounded so pretty to her seven year old ears. Ever since, she wanted to name her first pet Adrianna. A goal she had yet to complete. Snape hated animals of all sorts, forbidding her to keep the broken-boned or sore-winged animals that Silwen sometimes brought into the house, not letting her buy a rat or toad to take to Hogwarts with her either. ... Sighing, she stepped out of Memory Lane and went back to Hogsmeade, focusing on where she wanted to go next, holding her broom in hand. _I think I'll Apparate there, _she thought.

CRACK. Hogsmeade disappeared, and Uncle Severus' cottage at Spinner's End appeared before her.

"Miss Silwen!" A little body bounded out of the house, leapt over the fence, and hugged Silwen warmly around the calves. Lucie. Dearest Lucie, her House Elf. Granger would disapprove, but honestly saying, Lucie was well-taken care of, and never mistreated.

"Hello Lucie. It is so wonderful to see you again! I missed you," said Silwen, tears shining in her eyes.

"Let's get inside, Miss! Someone might see you."

Silwen followed the jittery elf inside their home replying, "Lucie, Voldemort already knows where I am. Or he does now."

"MISS! Don't say his name! It's Tabooed!" Silwen smiled wanly at her friend.

"He can't touch us inside the house, the protections around it are still in use, my wand tingled as I went through them." Still fearful, Lucie cast her eyes through the window once they were both inside.

"Miss, if you wouldn't mind, you should put up an Alerting Charm so you know if they come."

Sighing at Lucie's paranoia, but acknowledging that, yes, Lucie was definitely right, she murmured, circling her wand above her head, "_Noscimini Mortem Edax_." There. Now she'd be able to have time to escape with Lucie if they tried to come here.

"I have your school books, Tales of Beedle the Bard–an annotated copy by experts including Xenophilius Lovegood, books about the Elder Wand through history all ready for you when you want to see them. Lunch is ready," informed Lucie, clearly satisfied with the new safety addition.

"Thank you, Lucie."

"Of course I have! I will always take care of the house!"

Smiling again, Silwen nodded. Lucie always had, and always would.

The day was spent in harmonious solitude with Silwen studying about the Elder Wand's gruesome history of fantastic battles and awful murders, while eating vegetable platters that Lucie kept refilling when they started to dwindle.

When night drew its soft curtain over them, Silwen lit the fire, _accio_-ed a blanked and continued reading until Lucie stole her books and notes, forcing her off to bed. Silwen had forgotten how nice it was feeling peaceful. Feeling calm and knowing that she could wake up without fearing whose eyes she'd come across.


	7. Dreamsleep

"Your hand around my shoulder is worth more than a thousand galleons to me," murmured Silwen leaning into Draco's chest. They were at the lake side, idly watching the idle Giant Squid roam his tentacles over the lake's surface.

"And you–here with me–is double that," whispered Draco in response.

"Flatterer," teased Silwen.

"Sentimentalist,"retorted Draco, smiling.

Lapsing into a gentle silence, Draco leaned further against the tree behind him, pulling Silwen closer to him. Silwen, however was having none of that. Playfully, she disentangled herself out of his smooth hands and climbed into the tree, uniform, robes and all. Draco glanced up, startled. "What in Slytherin's name are you doing?" he asked, eyes widening.

"Come on up!" cajoled Silwen, grinning. It was the sheer spontaneity of the moment that drove Draco climbing up the tree, stopping when he reached Silwen's branch.

"I love you," he said, reaching for her hand when–Snap! The branch broke.

The ground came closer and closer when Silwen flicked her eyes open, she found herself inside her bed at Spinner's End. No lake, no squid, no tree. No Draco. Wiping a tear off her face, Silwen got ready for the day, spending it more quietly than she had since she had come back to Spinner's End.


	8. Snakes and Does

Hissssss. "What is stopping you from returning? You are only half done, half rewarded."Someone was talking to her. Someone whose voice had given her nightmares for years. Voldemort had come to her bedroom. Quicker than a fleeing fox, Silwen opened her eyes, only to see a grey, wispy snake slithering on the floor. She relaxed; it was only a Message Patronus. "An ally, who is not a Death Eater has stopped for a visit. Should you wish that he doesn't hurt your uncle, you will return by tomorrow at the latest, _Slytherin_. Am I understood?" Uselessly, the girl nodded at the enormous snake before it disappeared.

No. No. NO. This wasn't-couldn't be happening, but it was. _Uncle was right_, she thought, Voldemort was **always** a step ahead. **Always**, in control. And now his life–that she thought secure–was now jeopardized. Silwen couldn't let her uncle die. But, could she hand over the lives of every single witch and wizard–every child that hadn't yet been to school? Currently, after reading how powerful the wand was, she knew she couldn't hand over the wand to Voldemort. Uncle wouldn't forgive her if she saved his life. But could she ever forgive herself if she let him die? Slowly, then gaining speed, tears started down her face like brooms on a racing field. Flinging herself back onto her bed, she let many more tears into the competition down her cheeks and off her chin.

"Miss Silwen?" Lucie stood in of her doorway, holding tea and softly steaming crumpets.

"I was-I am s-so naive, Lucie. Voldemort's going to k-kill my uncle tomorrow if I don't bring the wand to him. A 'friend' is visiting and will kill my uncle if I d-don't go," sobbed Silwen into her pillowcase.

Crash! Lucie's tray was shattered on the ground, creating a rather spectacular mess. "Silwen Astoria Snape! Stop that! You're too old to cry like that!" Running up to the bed, Lucie flung the blankets and pillows off the bed-leaving Silwen bare of softness. Sitting up from surprise, Silwen looked at Lucie's fierce eyes. Gently, Lucie took Silwen's hand, and held it tightly. "The Dark Lord could be lying, Miss. He did that to Mr. Potter, remember? Dobby told me all about it!"

"You think so?"

Nodding, Lucie picked up the tray, magically cleaned the spilled tea and crumpets off the ground, got new tea, as well as new crumpets, and said, "I think so, Miss."

Whoosh... A silver, see-through doe stepped through the wall. "Don't you even think about co-" And Severus Snape's voice was cut off. Just as gently as it had appeared, the doe disappeared into the wall. _How did he get a wand? _wondered Silwen, jaw agape.

"So, Miss. That settles it. You will not go."

"Fine," murmured Silwen, closing her eyes, groping for her blankets and pillow.

"Oh no, Miss Silwen, it's time to start your day. You need to clean yourself up! And I need to find new robes for you, as well as wash all your old clothes. When you are clean, I will have breakfast ready." Silwen nodded, meandering over to the bathroom.

Slowly, Silwen turned water for a bath, sat on the ground and waited for the bath to fill up. She could have used the Elder Wand she supposed to make things move along quicker. But when she recalled the wand's gory history, she thought better of it. Thousands murdered with one curse, hundreds murdered to obtain the wand. Only twice had there been a peaceful transition between two owners. Blood trailed from that wand, and the less she used it, the less tainted she would be.

The bath tub filled, Silwen slipped out of her clothes and into the warm water, exhaling as the water soothed her aching body. Silwen stayed in there until the water wasn't so wonderfully warm, and her fingers looked like palid raisins. Finding new clothes just outside the door and her old ones having vanished, Silwen smiled gratefully. Thank Merlin for House Elves.

It was wonderful to feel clean, she thought as she put her hair in a haphazard bun-avoiding her reflection in the bathroom mirror, with parts of it sticking out like a rooster's tail feathers. When she entered the kitchen, and faced the little house elf's inspection. Giving her approval, Lucie nodded, to which Silwen smiled faintly, and sat down on a chair.

"If Master Snape were here, he would tell you to finish your studies, Miss, so I will make sure you do them in his place!" Loving the feeling of being home, Silwen smiled with more energy, and ate the breakfast that Lucie had brought down from Silwen's room.

Like the one before, this day was a cure for Silwen, bringing her back into a sanctuary of books, study, and home. Of course, the empty shadow of her uncle was ever omniscient, and twanged at her heart, but Silwen was still overjoyed to simply _be_ at home–to touch her blanket, rub her feet against the house's floorboards, smell the fire. For a moment, before things caught up with her once more, Silwen had found solace–and she intended to cling to is for as long as possible. For a moment, Silwen could catch her breath, steady her feet, and prepare herself for the small battle to come. A battle between her own bravery, loyalty, and fear towards others.


	9. Retrieval

From an ecstaticly hallooing author comes an author's note:A very special thanks to my first reviewers, lilgenious, Lightaqua, Asase, QueenofNobodies, and Ghost Auror! You have made me do MANY happy dances on tip toes, and have made me simply squeal in delight! It means more than galleons could ever pay to have my story reviewed, so again, thank you! You are amazing!

So, now, another chapter for you as a treat! OMHP–two story chapters in one day! O.o (this is my face of "wowness" and shock of my beloved reviews and reviewers...

Oh, before I forget. I don't really know how the Patronus Message Spell works, so this is my take on it. This little note will make sense when you start reading...

* * *

Getting over her dreams and forcing herself to really wake up every morning was excruciatingly painful, and if it hadn't been for Lucie and the peppermint tea she brought as well as the ever-present tomes, Silwen's mind would have remained by the lakeside with an imaginary Draco Malfoy for perhaps the rest of her life. However, due to Lucie's constant prodding when Silwen began to nod off, and the constant admonishments of, "Get back to your books, Miss," kept Silwen's mind inside the books, if not in a dream. But Silwen should have known that when a crime against Voldemort is committed, punishment follows you, waiting for the exact moment to crumble the criminal's sanctuary.

CRACK. Was that...Someone Apparating? Knock, knock, knock. Perhaps.

"Hide," mouthed Lucie, waiting to open the door. Instantly, Silwen dashed silently out the back door as she grabbed the Elder Wand lying on the table next to her. Outside, Silwen accioed a parchment, wet quill.

"_Lucie. The minute after I give the Elder Wand to you, find Harry and give it to him then disappear IF the visitor is a threat_," she wrote, then wrapped the parchment around the Elder Wand. Finding a small bit of string on the ground, she secured the note onto the horrid stick. No matter who was at the door all precautions would be taken. And really, the Elder Wand was safest with Harry where it was guarded by not only Harry, but Hermione Granger as well. If anything, it had nearly the best protection she could give it.

"Silwen." That was impossible. It couldn't be.

"It's me. Draco." Involuntarily, she snapped her head up. Lanky blond hair, paling blue eyes, a sickly frame from months of imprisonment and malnourishment, large & warm hands swinging at his sides, seemed to lie to her, wanting her to believe that it genuinely was him. Once near the gate, Silwen stopped walking and leaned on it, her eyes fixed on Draco.

"I thought you were at your mountain cabin," she said uncertainly.

"Silwen. I-I have not time to waste." His eyes found her as he bent down and took her hands in his. "Your uncle is dead. Don't you want to go to his funeral? I-it's at my manor."

"How do you know?"

Quickly, Silwen got up off the ground, hid her wand in her robes, and strode to the front of the yard in order to gather some of her rapidly scattering thoughts. Right behind her followed Lucie and Draco, attempting to keep up.

"Severus tried to contact me with a Patronus, yesterday morning, but Voldemort interrupted and cast the Avada Kedavra. I heard him, Silwen. I heard Voldemort's voice. And your uncle's scream." Lucie walked over to Silwen and imperceptibly, Silwen smuggled the wand into Lucie's hands.

Smiling pleasantly now, Silwen said, "See that's impossible. The Patronus message spell works only for the caster. It doesn't carry on anyone else's voice. Now, I suggest you leave before I hex you to oblivion." 59, 58, 57...the minute was ticking.

"Silwen, darling, you know you want me to stay with you!" Draco began. 54, 53, 52...too slow, too slow!

"Draco? Is it really you? Or am I talking to a moronic servant of the Dark Lord?" she spat. 47, 46, 45...More time.

"Silwen, darling, of course it's me!" he began, but Silwen cut him off, raising her hand in a gesture much like one her uncle used to silence his classroom.

"Then-then what did we talk about on my last night at 'your' manor?" she asked. 30, 29, 28...Almost.

Draco merely smiled and said, "I'm sorry, love, but I simply don't remember."

Slowly, Silwen backed up into the proximity of her house, feeling no magical forces tingle. 20, 19, 18...She had to escape, but without a wand in hand, that was impossible and she wasn't about to take it from Lucie. The Wand's evasion of Voldemort was much more crucial than her evasion of him. Taking several more steps, she looked at Draco in the eye.

"Why are my protective enchantments down?" she asked, stalling.

"Ah, clever girl. You felt their absence. Only Snape's protegee would have," sneered Draco, approaching her. 10, 9, 8...Only a few more seconds.

"Who are you?" came her next question. Suddenly, Silwen couldn't back away any more. The house's wall stood apathetically behind her, not allowing her to make an escape. Draco came closer.

"Guess, _Slytherin_," mocked Draco.

"Obviously, the Dark Lord didn't send one of his favorite Death Eaters to bring me back-he needs their minds to be able to confer with his at a close distance, so let me see...We now have as options one of the Carrows, Mr. Greyback, Avery, Yaxley, or maybe even Dolohov." 3, 2, 1. Without a sound, Lucie's petrified body dissapeared. Thank the heavens. The wand was safe.

"And how, did you come to that conclusion?," snarled the morphing Draco, shoving her harshly against the wall.

"You forgot to see if I had the Elder Wand with me," she whispered, growing just as terrified as Lucie was. If only it had been Draco, she thought, a tear slipping out of her right eye.

"Don't you insul-wait-WHAT?" he screamed, his crude emotions ruining Draco's face. Slash! A knife tore across the tear's pathway, killing it before it could drop off her face. "Where is it?" he demanded.

"By now, it should be in the hands of Harry Potter." Slash! Thump. Silwen fell to the ground, her thump only slightly louder than Lucie's departure.

"Well then, at least I can take half of my mission to the Dark Lord," he whispered in a voice that sounded like iron nails scraping glass. "No," she moaned softly into the ground with more tears coming out, mixing with the blood. "No." An arm grabbed her. Thwack! Darkness. Blessed unconsciousness came over her and Silwen slept. However, sleep was no boon for she became lost in nightmares instead of dreams.

"I am sorry, Uncle," she whispered in her tormented sleep as the Death Eater transported her back to a tower of torment.

"Welcome back, little Slytherin," hissed a voice in her ears that made Silwen's waking mind desperately yearn for and cling to her nightmares as if they were her lifeline.

"No," she moaned again into soft linen sheets.


	10. Crime and Punishment

"You have disobeyed the Dark Lord, little Slytherin. For that you must be punished," crooned Voldemort stroking Silwen's back like he stroked Nagini. In response, Silwen moved closer to the wall, trying to find an escape from his deathly fingers, but only ending up cornering herself.

"That is not true, my Lord. All I did was delay returning. I was going to return—and with the Elder Wand. You were the one who ruined your plans. Now the wand is safe with Harry Potter, and I pray to any existing god that it will stay there." Muscles tensing, she anticipated retribution for her words. When none came, she started to tremble so badly that her cot rattled faintly on the ground. Absence of punishment only meant that worse ones were were in store.

Voldemort went on. "I have arranged for a Dementor to visit you. Perhaps after the visit, you will be more cautious of your actions." With a jolt, Silwen lay still, shocked into immobility and silence.

"I will leave you to him then," he murmured, rising to his feet and leaving the room, his high, cold laugh reverberating inside of her.

As soon as he had left, cold that Silwen had thought impossible seeped into the room. Depleting every ounce of warmth that she had managed to gather. She lay like that, refusing to greet her new visitor, dreading what was coming. Fingers longer, bonier, more ominous than even Voldemort's picked up her face and held it, turning it towards his mouth. She forced her eyes to stay shut. "_Expecto patronus_!" she screamed hysterically, her wand arm instinctively rising. An empty arm. Empty words. No dove appeared to send the Dementor away. For once, what her uncle had taught her did not—_could_ not help her without a wand in her fingers.

Sucking greedily, the Dementor kissed her, taking away her cherished memories, and soon, her soul. What frightened her even more was feeling her soul rising. Through her stomach, into her throat, and—everything stopped. "That's enough, Dementor!" barked a Death Eater's voice. Reluctantly, the Dementor let go of Silwen, his lips leaving her face, and departed silently.

He had not taken her soul. She was still alive—still in possession of several beloved memories—and whole.

Gasping for air, Silwen sobbed—half in relief, half in horror—and slowly, she gathered the memories that she still had around her, reliving them, letting them wash over her, heal her, and calm her down enough so she could sleep. She was alive. Parts of her were missing, but she was alive.

"Do not defy me again, little Slytherin," whispered a voice from the doorway. Too deep in her shallow sleep to respond, Silwen heard, but turned to her side, sinking a touch lower in her sleep, clinging to her soul inside her, where it belonged. Where it would stay.


	11. Compromises

To the kind reviewer that said I had too many similes, thank you! These chapters don't have as many!

Also, at the end, the Unbreakble Vow is mentioned. Again, I have taken a lot of liberties interpreting how the Vow works. I stretched its mechanics a ton to suit my purposes, but I _think_ my interpretation still is reasonable.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since the Dementor. For the first few days, Silwen was left completely alone in her room to begin her recovery. No one came to visit, except for the food trays that she didn't dare touch. Kind, beloved memories replayed themselves in her mind, delicately keeping her from insanity. No, she was nowhere near recovered, but she had begun to ease herself out of memories and back into semi-consciousness. Recently, she was sleeping more—her mind in neither her room nor her memories. Brave enough to leave her memories but lacking the courage to move into complete consciousness, she had found a transition place where she could move on when she was ready. Yet today, Voldemort ruined the progress she had made, taking her back into her memories.

"Too many memories have survived the kiss," he snarled. "One more, I think, needs to be taken away for you to learn your lesson. Little Slytherin, which one is your favorite memory? Show it to me in the pensive." Voldemort drew his wand and forced it into her now submissive fingers.

"This one." With a graceful movement of her arm, a tear in the corner of her eye, Silwen extracted her dearest memory from herself.

Smirking at her display of apparent lack of will to resist, he said, "Ladies first," and escorted her into the pensive with convoluted courtesy.

...

It had begun to rain. Dancing merrily all over the Hogwarts grounds, it joyously invited all to come outside. Plants' leaves bounced to the rhythm, and in the mud, infant streams frothed happily, cutting new paths for a tiny, adventurous traveler to wander down them on a boat made from the Whomping Willow's leaves.

Inside Hogwarts, Silwen looked up at the Great Hall's ceiling and smiled, exhaling excitedly. Rain was a much needed mug of peppermint tea with lemon and honey or one of Draco's hugs after an extensive night of studying. And yet, it also rejuvenated her and filled her with life and adventure every time it stopped to visit. On her right, Draco too, glanced up at the ceiling, and back down to Silwen's face, mirroring her smile.

"Let's skip breakfast while the rain is still wants to play," she murmured. He nodded and grabbed her hand, but _she_led them back through the doors, and through another pair of doors to the outside.

Pitter patter, splash! Pitter, splash! Pitter, pitter, patter! The rain sounded reminded Silwen of little children waving tambourines in a self-created dance, with little stomps every in between the tambourine shakes.

In moments, the couple was soaked drenched, but they clung to each other as they made their way down to the lakeside, daring to walk adjacent to the baby streams. Gripping the each other's elbows so as not to fall down in the mud, Silwen and Draco laughed at each near slip, then anxiously asking, "Are you alright?"

In the lake, the Giant Squid was also enjoying the rain, waving merrily at them with its entire head emerging from the water.

"He really is quite friendly," said Draco as they walked around the perimeter of the Hogwarts lake.

"Do you not remember how it picked up Creevy's brother when the boy fell in?" Draco shook his head.

"Both of them are Gryffindors, Sil, I don't care abo-"

"Shhh," said Silwen, putting a finger over Draco's lips, stopping for a second. "Don't say that."

"It still amazes me how much of a Hufflepuff you are," he smiled under her finger, his own fingers wrapping around her hand.

"The Hat almost did put me in Hufflepuff, you know, but I managed to persuade him to put me in Slytherin. He must have seen _something_ cunning in me after all." He nodded, his grin growing larger.

"_I_ certainly can," he responded, a sly smile crossing his lips. She grinned back, then looked at the lake, enjoying the feeling of walking in the mixture of rain and love.

The rain allowed Silwen and Draco to simply _be_, without fear of judgement. And, it held their secret hand holdings, stolen embraces, shared smiles.

Standing before the doors, Draco said,"So, you are off to Private-Study Potions, and I am off to Potions with your uncle," he said, wrapping his hands around her back, and lowering his head to just above hers.

"Tell my uncle good morning, would you?" she asked, her arms encircling him and drawing him nearer.

"Of course," he whispered, his lips right beside her ear.

Slowly, Silwen turned her head and tilted it, so that their lips brushed against each other like a hesitant quill on parchment. Once more, with slightly more pressure that still maintained the soft, gentle feel of their first kiss. Slowly, they broke away more quickly than Draco would have liked.

"Is something the matter?"

Silwen grinned at his perplexed expression then turned around in his arms so her back leaned into his chest. Carefully, he backed up slowly against a wall, drawing Silwen along with him.

"No, just the bell is going to ring, and I don't want the younger students to see us _snogging_ as they head off to Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology." Draco chuckled as he tightened his arms around her stomach.

"What if I don't want to let you go?"

"Then I might have to hex you," she sighed, feigning a threat.

A pause settled for a moment or two, then Draco whispered, "You're safe here, you know-completely and utterly safe and sound."

Silwen let her head rest below his shoulder—she was not tall enough to reach his shoulder even when he _wasn't_ standing at his full height—and relaxed.

" Safe because my uncle taught me almost every spell he knows. Because you're a powerful wizard with powerful connections."

"Sil,—" he warned, his arms tightening protectively even more around her.

"No one's listening, Draco. I promise."

"...We willkeep _each other_ safe," he persisted, worry cracking his voice from wanting to be assured of this.

"Yes, love," answered Silwen softly.

"I-I love you, Silwen. I hope you feel that."

Once more, their heads met at their lips. Silwen's hands reached up to around Draco's neck as his hands slid over her shoulders, bringing her face upwards. Awkward, yet adorable.

"Safe and sound," she whispered, breaking apart to a normal distance between them when the bell sounded, able to look casual just before the students trudged outside.

Arms around the other's waist or shoulder, they walked inside squelching beautifully over the entrance hall's marble floor, mud sliding off their robes.

"I am so glad it's Autumn," said Draco, hugging Silwen around the shoulders one last time before class.

"The weather forecast in the Daily Prophet said it would be raining several more times this week," she replied, cheeks red from the sudden temperature change. Taking her wet hands in his, he began to rub them together, knowing full well that his efforts were completely futile; his were just as wet as hers. "Here," she said, taking her hands out of his, and reaching for her wand. With a wave and a nonverbal spell, both of them were completely dry. Another wave of her wand, and the mess they and the other students created vanished. "We don't want Filch giving us detentions before 1st hour has even begun, do we?" she said, smirking.

"Of course not," he answered, smirking too.

"So, we will see each other for History of Magic after Potions?"

"Meet you there."

"Good bye, darling." She gave his hand a squeeze, and then walked off, waving her fingers behind her.

...

An icy, almost transparent, hand clenched hers and dragged her outside of the pensive. Finding herself back on her cot, Silwen dried her face with her sheets and held in what she could of her emotions.

Mockingly, Voldemort hissed, "Why is that your favorite memory?"

"I-it was the day before you and your Death E-eaters invaded Hogwarts. Th-the day before Dumbledore left with Potter. The day before A-albus D-dumbledore died. It was the last day of my life that I felt completely-completely s-safe and s-sound before you annihilated everything."

"Ah," sighed Voldemort, his grip loosening. "Time to say farewell to it, Silwen."

Suddenly, hysteria exploded in her. "Please. You've already had a Dementor take away all my other ones. You can't take this one away. I think I might die if you do. This memory means the world to me. I-it..." Her eyes filling with tears , she began sobbing uncontrollably, despite the presence of the Dark Lord and his order to never cry in front of him.

SLAP! Furious finger marks seemed to glow on Silwen's cheek seconds after she fell onto her cot from the impact.

"I told you not to cry in front of me, little Slytherin," Voldemort whispered, his eyes narrowing to slits. He smiled to himself. Little did the girl know that he had put her memories into a pensive when she was sleeping before the Dementor came. Yes, the Dementor had sucked the memories from her, but in the Pensive, they still lived.

"It what?" he asked, sitting down on the cot, right beside her, capturing both of her hands in his. Hiccuping, she stopped her sobs and let the Dark Lord take her hands without reacting, still lying down. She pushed her face into the blanket, shrinking away from his next question.

Looking at the locket Voldemort had given her two months ago, she whispered, "I-it...was my first kiss."

"Such a memory of yours must be earned to be kept. Sit up, little Slytherin."

"No."

"Sit up before I get irritated and call Nagini."

"N-no."

"Do you want the Dementor to take it from you?" he hissed, his hand creeping up her arms, pinning them to the cot.

"No," she wimpered, her voice muffled from speaking into the blanket.

"Those who defy the Dark Lord must be punished so they know to _neve_r defy again," he said. His other hand commenced to comb her hair, almost causing Silwen's hysteria to return.

"W-why not some other p-punishment? Knives? The Cruciatus Curse? Various devices?"

"This one seems to bring you more pain than mere physical torture, making this manner more effective on you."

He paused, and the hand pinning Silwen's arms stroked her skin, reminding Silwen ironically of snowflakes; both were cold, white, and incapable of humanity.

"Please. Take this memory away, and you take away my happiness. I'll become a shadow."

"Very well. Do not cross me again. Do you promise me that?"

"No."

Using the hand that was stroking her hair, he retrieved his wand, tapped it on her head, and gently murmured, "Crucio."

Writhing, twisting, falling on the ground, her screams echoed around the room and down the hall. When he did so, she curled into a fetal position, hugging her knees.

"Do you want to change your answer?" his voice soft and icy.

"No."

"In an hour, I want to hear a different response from you. If not, I will take away that memory, or obliviate all Draco's memories and return all of your memories."

Silwen shot up into a sitting position, eyes riveted on his. "What do you mean, 'return my memories'? They were sucked from me. I can't get them back."

"Wrong, Silwen. You see, I duplicated your memories as you slept, putting the genuine ones inside the pensive, letting the Dementor feast on copies. In one hour, you might have them once more if your answer hasn't wavered." Voldemort's hands manacled her wrists and feet, threw her onto her cot, then as he left the room, Silwen whispered, "Wait." She shuddered, realizing she was requesting to be in the presence of the Dark Lord for a while longer.

"What is it, little Slytherin?"

"You can't harm Draco. The Vow won't let you."

"Once more, you err. I didn't think that was possible for you to be incorrect. I have two possibilities of stealing Draco's memories. One would be to ask an acquaintance who isn't a Death Eater to take the memories away. However, the next one is rather interesting. When you I had Greyback fetch you, you came to me without the Elder Wand, but did not die. It appears to me that by forcefully taking you back with you still convinced that you would bring the Elder Wand to me, the Vow has become...void. Which grants me every liberty that the Unbreakable Vow took away."

On the bed, Silwen's eyes widened in horror. "How-"

"For the first time since Potter's failed murder, I do not know."

"Don't harm them."

"Then you will let me take your memories away?"

"No."

"Perhaps, in an hour, your mind will be changed," he snapped. Robes billowing, he turned to the door, opened it, and strode out of the room. Click._ He locks it, even though I never attempted to escape from here,_ thought Silwen._ I won't change my mind. I will never change my mind. If he wants the memories, he will have to force them out of me. Now, he can kill Draco and my uncle. If he returns all of my memories to me, then at least, if he does kill my uncle and Draco, then they will still be with me._

* * *

The hour passed rapidly; she had taken a nap, having already made her decision, she thought a nap would be better then worrying furthur.

When Voldemort returned, Silwen's eyes fluttered open, saw him, then shut once more.

"I have changed my mind about taking your memory."

That made her eyes flash open, but she remained lying down.

"An ally has arrived from America." He paused, his eyes aggravated eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "You will keep him company. I have personal matters to attend to and won't be able to meet with him until later. Do this, and I will allow you to keep the memory as well as return all of your other memories to you."

This was too easy. Too simple.

"Why me? Why can't Bellatrix?"

"I think he would like the mystery of your blood more than Bellatrix's."

"What do you mean?"

"My visitor is a vampire, little Slytherin," he whispered, coming close to Silwen and stroked her neck. Silwen's eyes closed again, her face turning away.

"Fine. Let him in."

"Oh no, Silwen. You will entertain him in the Malfoy's parlor. But before that, you must look suitable." At that, none other than Narcissa Malfoy stepped into the room, holding a silken something in her arms. "When I told Narcissa about your clothing, she ever so willingly came back to help you," gloated voldemort, leaving the room. To Narcissa he said, "Prepare her. You have one hour before Greyback takes escorts you out."


	12. A Promise is a Promise

"It's good to see you, Silwen," said Mrs. Malfoy, trying to smile.

"I wish it was under happier circumstances," responded Silwen.

"So," continued Narcissa Malfoy, nodding, "Let's start making you gorgeous."

Kindly, Narcissa led Silwen to the bathroom and handed her a towel. "First, I want you to clean yourself off, then call me when you are ready." Silwen acquiesced her head, took the towel, and stepped into the bathroom. Already, a perfect bath had been prepared for her. A grateful smile crossed her lips. Lowering herself into the bath, strong smells of roses and violets greeted her warmly, enveloping her inside their scents.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she whispered to the bath.

It was wretched that Narcissa could only stay an hour; Silwen would have liked to converse with her longer. Also, if Narcissa could have stayed longer, Silwen would have been able to spend more time in the bath. Alas. Silwen washed herself, inspecting every hair on her body for dirt and blemishes. When she was satisfied, and wrapped in a towel, she called out for Mrs. Malfoy who promptly came inside.

"Call me Narcissa, dear. After all, you are in love with my son." Pausing, Narcissa looked at Silwen, also inspecting, then gave her a slip and underthings to put on. Mrs. Malfoy then left again, and entered to find Silwen sitting before the mirror, ready for the beautification to begin. Standing behind Silwen, Narcissa murmured quietly to herself, "What are we going to do with your hair? Something simple, I think. After all, it's only keeping someone company. After your bath, you already look so much better, there really is little even I can do to help. But maybe..."

"I want this to be a surprise, so I'm going to blindfold you and take the blindfold off only when I am finished and you are in your dress." Whipping a sash from a pocket, Mrs. Malfoy put it around Silwen's eyes, causing Silwen to flinch slightly. Narcissa paid no attention and continued. Brush in hand, Narcissa tamed Silwen's slightly frizzy hair into an adorably curled, low side pony tail.

Patiently, Narcissa said, when her care had jumped for the umpteenth time, "I am not going to hurt you, Silwen. You're ok." Silwen nodded, taking a shaky breath. After that, Silwen stopped jolting at every touch, even though her back remained more rigid then an arrow. Inwardly, Narcissa sighed at the girl's trauma, but didn't comment or comfort.

Hair finished, Narcissa moved on to the make-up. For eyeshadow, Narcissa dabbed on a shadow of green, bringing out Silwen's foresty eyes, a hint of blush on her ivory cheeks, and a brush of lipstick so as to complete everything. Really, nothing more needed to be done than that. Into the bathwater, Narcissa had poured a skin-healing potion—which really was the source of Silwen's beauty. All Silwen really needed, Narcissa thought, was to be rid of the horrors that currently surrounded her.

"Wait here," Mrs. Malfoy said, when Silwen's make-up was finished. As Narcissa left, Silwen relaxed, inhaling deeply. No more contact. No more shadows of traumatizing memories. "Here is your dress," said Narcissa, returning. "Hold up your arms and stand up please. I'm going to help you put on your dress." Silwen did as she was told and felt exquisitely soft fabric slide over her head and around her body. Making a few tugs on the dress to straighten it out, Mrs. Malfoy stood back to look at her handiwork. Suitable, she deemed. Very suitable. Swiftly, Narcissa undid the blindfold.

Silwen did a sharp intake of breath. Her dress. It couldn't be. But it was. Her beautiful, tailored, softer than silk Yule Ball dress adorned her body in shimmering jade. Seeing the girl's amazement, Mrs. Malfoy said smiling genuinely, "I managed to salvage it, somehow, during all this chaos."

Fingering it reverently, Silwen responded, "Thank you, Narcissa."

"If only Draco could see you. He's doing fine, nothing to worry about with him." Silwen nodded, grateful for the news.

Suddenly, three sharp knocks banged on the door. "One hour is up, Madam Malfoy! Come out and let me escort you outside! You, girl, are supposed to go to the manor's largest drawing room!" Greyback snarled from outside.

Putting a hand on Silwen's shoulder as she left, Narcissa whispered directions to the parlor, whispered farewell, and followed Greyback out. Odd. Silwen knew how to get to the parlor, having been here before as Draco's guest many times. What was Narcissa doing, giving her new directions? Silwen let the thought go, and for a moment, let herself be content.

Knowing that she, too, had to go, Silwen still lingered in front of the mirror, gazing at her appearance. The make up had embellished her features, but so subtly that everything looked almost natural. And the dress enhanced her eyes to perfection, drawing every attention to them. It was a Medieval style dress of velvet jade hues, long and elegant—it kissed the floor but allowed her feet to peek through—with a silky creamy sash tied lightly around her waist. Looking like this, she couldn't help but smile, letting her dimples show. It had been a year now, since she had felt as happy as she did now. Reveling in the feeling for a few more seconds—she knew that as soon as she started walking to meet the vampire, most of her happiness would evaporate.

She admired herself for a minute more, then, her happiness already wishing her goodbye, she departed from the bathroom. _Out of the frying pan_ _and into the fire,_ she thought. The absence of the Dark Lord was welcome, but entertaining a vampire felt like stepping into another danger.

"Silwen," croaked a hoarse voice. A voice that hadn't received water in perhaps days. A voice that belonged to family. Severus was here. She began to babble, to wrap her arms around him, to jump up and down in joy, but he put up his hand, his signal for silence and attention. "They are only cleaning out my cell. When they are finished, I will be thrown in there again." Tears threatened to ruin all of Narcissa's hard work, but Silwen caught them just before they spilled over. Holding them back, she waited for her uncle to keep on going, content just to be with him once more. Face ragged, robes shattered into tatters, Snape looked like he had met Death—and Death thought it would be crueler to let him continue living instead of taking Severus with him.

"The vampire you are going to meet is highly volatile. There is a wand Lucie gave Narcissa on the table inside the parlor, before she met you. Use it to defend yourself. When you can, run." Silwen gasped. _How did Lucie do it? How did she get the wand to Narcissa?_ But these questions couldn't be answered now. Especially since Voldemort visited her so often. The more she knew, the more Voldemort knew when he asked questions.

Reaching out to him, Silwen said, her tears now flowing, "I can't leave you here. Not a second time."

"You must. Now go," he said roughly, firmly pushing her towards her direction. Slowly, she started to walk again towards her destination.

"I love you, Silwen." Severus didn't even look at her as he said those words, and certainly didn't let her go back and hug him. Tears now coming to a close, Silwen nodded, unable to speak, feeling her uncle's eyes on her back, watching over her, giving her the only protection he was currently capable of—love. So that was why Narcissa had had her go a different way. She smiled, and saw herself in a mirror. Miraculously, nothing was ruined, not even a microscopic smudge.

"Narcissa must have known I would cry and put on impervious make up," she murmured to herself as she walked on.

All too soon, she stood in front of the door. Not shaking, not in the slightest, she pushed on the gold handle and opened the door, letting herself in. Taking deep breaths, she looked for the vampire. In all the shadows—the blinds were shut tightly to block out any sunlight. It was day, she realized. Funny. In the room, she had thought it was only night. An eternal, terrifying night.

"No one said my meal was going to take so long," drawled an English voice. Her head swiveled to its owner. Bleached white hair. Long, black leather jacket. Tall, black leather boots. Red shirt. White skin. Despite the pallor, he looked human. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he _was _human.

"You're not American," she said, bewildered. The man coughed, seemed offended, and retorted.

"No, I _bloody_ well am not!"

"Then why did the Dark Lord say you were from America?" her confusion still plain on her face.

"I had business in America," he scoffed. He was lounging on a sofa, shoes and everything, eying her neck hungrily. Self consciously, Silwen's hands wrapped around her neck, futilely trying to hide it from view.

"That's not going to work. I've already seen your pretty little neck," he sneered. Silwen nodded, now searching the room for a table—there. Right in front of the vampire. And in the flower bouquet on top of the table, nestled deeply inside, was the promised wand. Shoot.

"Who are you?" asked Silwen, daring to approach him with tiny footsteps.

"Name's Spike."

Coughing to hide a laugh, she said, "Spike? Like a railroad spike?"

"You got a problem with my name?"

"N-no. I-it's just...unusual."

"Whatever."

"So, Spike, why did you visit?" Scoffing, he didn't bother to answer, just look at her.

Taking larger steps towards the table, Silwen looked at him and then gasped, realizing something. "You don't have soul, do you?"

"No."

"But, you act almost completely normally? A Dementor—"

"A _Dementor_ isn't a vampire, love. A vampire sires you—turns you into one of us. A Dementor just sucks your memories dry."

"O-oh," she said edgily now that they were talking about feeding.

The wand was in her reach. "_Voldie_, didn't say that my snack was going to be so attractive," He said, scrutinizing her.

Silwen took a step back, going into a shadow, almost hoping that it would devour before he did. Then she remembered that she still needed the wand. Shuddering, she took two steps forwards, snatched the Wand, and held it. Looking at the wand she clutched, Spike chuckled.

"Do you really think a magical stick is going to protect you?," he said sarcastically, jumping onto the table.

Taking several steps back once more, she said, "No, but it will delay you for a bit. _Redactum Skullus_!" Breathing in relief as Spike's head shrunk, now his fangs would be ineffective.

"Hey! That wasn't nice!"

With speed she didn't know Spike had, he lunged from the table on top of her, pinning her to the ground. "Take the bloody spell off!"

Silwen had read about vampires, their superhuman strength and speed. Why didn't she remember that two moments ago? But now, the knowledge was almost useless.

"Get off me and I will."

"I will not!" His arms gripped her tighter, and he banged her head against the harsh floor.

Pop! Unnervingly quickly, Spike's head inflated to its normal size. "Well, I might as well have a sip now." One of his arms gripped Silwen's pony tail, forcing her head to tilt sideways., giving Spike a wide range to bite.

Suddenly, Spike's face changed; his forehead protruded in grooves, his eyes turned yellow, and his fangs emerged.

"Please," whispered Silwen, petrified.

"Sorry, love," he smirked before he bit into her. Instinctively, Silwen screamed and struggled, desperately trying to escape the vampire. When he started to suck, the bite burned worse than the Cruciatus Curse ever did. At least it was only her blood—not her soul. One second passed. Two. Three. Four. Five. Then abruptly, Spike withdrew, chocking, his grip relenting.

Scrambling up, Silwen started to run for the door, only to have her right arm yanked back Spike's grip again.

"What is wrong with your blood?" Standing stock still, Silwen looked at him.

"Something. Why? What does it taste like?"

"Bloody disgusting! What did you do to it?" She almost drowned in a truth serum. Of course. That is why Voldemort wanted her to be Spike's meal.

"Something. Take another sip, _Spike_, and I'll tell you." She might as well get a few answers, too, that she could send to the Order of the Phoenix.

"Not bloody likely! What's wrong with your bloody blood?"

"It has a truth serum running through it. What did you want to tell Voldemort?"

"His army in the United States is ready. His army is ready," responded Spike, his eyes turning blank. Good, it was working.

"What is in his army? How large is it?"

"Vamps, werewolves, Dementors, magic folk. 10 000 thousand."

"What is its goal?"

"Put President Snow and Voldemort in charge."

"Where are the headquarters?"

"Sunnydale, California."

"Why—"

"Enough," called a voice. Voldemort had returned, walking swiftly to Spike's side. "Spike, let go of the girl." Still dull-eyed, Spike obeyed. To Silwen, the Dark Lord asked softly, "How much did he drink?"

Not looking at him, she said, "Whatever he could in five seconds."

His eyes roved over Silwen. "Narcissa did well, little Sl—What are you holding in your hand?" he demanded.

Trembling, Silwen whispered, barely audible, "The Elder Wand."

Though the Vow was null, Silwen's Veritesrum-filled blood held her true to her promise. She handed Voldemort the wand, terrified at the power she was giving to him. "Well done, little Slytherin. You will be well rewarded for this," he whispered, fingering her mussed pony tail.

Flinching away, she pleaded, "You have what you want. Let my uncle go."

"Very well." He went back to the door, grabbing hold of Silwen, dragging her along with him. "I will set your uncle free," he cackled.

He had the Elder Wand. The Death Stick. The most powerful weapon a wizard could have. And it was his. Because of her. And she had given it to him without a fight. Whatever he did withe the wand would be because of her.

"Severus!" he called into the hall. Footsteps approached, quickening until Severus stood before them, proud and tall.

"What is it, my Lord?"

Holding Silwen like a dying pirate holding to his treasure, he said, "Your little niece has given me the Elder Wand. You are free to leave."

Bowing Snape said, "Thank you, my Lord." Inconspicuously, Snape motioned his pocket at Silwen.

Voldemort laughed cruelly, raised his wand arm, pointing it at Snape, and murmured, "Here is your freedom!_Avada Kedavra_!"

"Uncle Severus!"

Crash. An empty body fell to the floor. But the little Slytherin didn't collapse crying over him. Seeing that Voldemort's fingers had laxed around her and the wand, she snatched it from his fingers. SNAP! Snap! Snap! In seconds what was the most powerful weapon became nothing more than broken wood with thestral hair inside. There. Now, she allowed herself to sink beside her uncle.

"I fixed it," she said, her voice breaking, tears splashing and soaking into his robes. "It's better now." Her sight blurred with tears, Silwen closed her beloved uncle's eyes and put his hands at his sides. "I love you, Uncle Severus," she said, tears soaking the robes over his heart. Pretending to put his robes in order, she put her hands in her uncle's pocket, storing whatever was inside into her own pockets to read for later. "I love you."


	13. All I want is Freedom

"NO!" shouted Voldemort. "Crucio!"

Pain ran through her body, but Silwen scarcely noticed. Gone. He was gone. Dead. Because of her. Dead. Never again would he have private breakfasts with her. Never again would his lips berate her, would his fingers teach her a spell. Dead.

"Wake up, Uncle Snape. Wake up," she pleaded.

"He's dead," snarled Voldemort, dropping the curse.

Kicking her lividly to the side, he stepped into the hallway and called for Bellatrix.

"Take the brat back into her room! Tie her up and leave her there. You are forbidden from punishing her!" hissed the Dark Lord. His eyes narrowed into slits thinner than parchment.

"Yes, my lord," said Bellatrix, dragging Silwen behind her.

"I will deal with the vampire, then with Silwen. She is _mine_."

"Yes, my lord," Bellatrix whispered a second time, fearing the anger on her master's face. Never before had he been so furious. Even after the Ministry fiasco.

...

"Incarcerous," muttered Bellatrix when they reached the room moments later.

Barely conscious, Silwen moaned when excruciatingly tight cords wrapped themselves around her, hardly allowing her to breathe. Thump, she went as she fell onto the bed.

"Send my regards to your uncle after the Dark Lord deals with you," sneered Bellatrix before she slammed the door shut, leaving Silwen alone.

Faintly, Silwen smiled. The Elder Wand was broken, its power vanquished.

But her uncle was dead. Despite her promise being kept, despite her handing over the wand, her uncle had died. A small voice inside her whispered, "It's not fair." Before, injustice was a detention from an irate McGonagall, or rebuke from Slughorn when he drank too many glasses of sherry the night before class. Not the loss of family.

Tears pricking her eyes, she thought of Potter. Her empathy for him grew as she thought about how he, too, had no one else anymore. _At least I still have Lucie and Draco, _she thought_. They are...all I have left._

Thinking of this got her nowhere. She might as well do something productive while waiting, like practicing occlumency.

"Uncle would have wanted me to," she whispered, many more tears kissing her cheeks, trying to console her. In minutes, all thoughts, all emotions faded into nonexistence. Through occlumency, Silwen's grief evaporated; through practicing occlumency, she was able to cope.

Click. The door opened and the Dark Lord stepped inside.

"_Crucio_."

Writhing, Silwen screamed through the cords around her mouth until Voldemort lifted the curse.

"Little Slytherin, you have angered me again. From now on, you will receive a dose a day of the Cruciatus Curse," he whispered, approaching the bedside with maliciously gleeful eyes.

He had contained his fury now and even seemed...happy. If that was possible.

Shuddering, she closed her eyes and waited for more punishment to fall.

"Draco has been brought here," he gloated, sitting down and methodically yanking her hair out of the cords. Flicking his wand, he removed the cords around her, yet leaving them on her feet and hands.

"Why?"

"To make sure you don't try anything again," he murmured, stroking her dress back into place, smirking at Silwen's frightened tremors and eyes shut tighter than a Gringotts vault.

An odd volt of anger shot through her.

"There is nothing more I can do for you! The Elder Wand is ruined! Draco has no further use for you as I have none!" she spat, her furious eyes flashing open.

Slap! Her cheek stung, blood threatening to appear.

"It is always useful to have another set of hands ready to do your bidding," hissed Voldemort, his anger flaring.

Just as rapidly as it had appeared, the anger fled from her and she regained her terror. Trying to get her hair out of his fingers, Silwen hid her head away from him. Seeing this, Voldemort's hand forced her face to face him, cupping her chin in both of his hands.

"What m-more do you want from me?"

"Promise to become my shadow, little Slytherin, to do my every bidding, to stand by my side for as long as you or I live."

Under the awful eyes looked at her like she was his most precious possession, she desperately fought to escape despite her hands and feet being bound. In response, he held her face even tighter in his hands, and and yanked her entire body up into a sitting position, listening to her moan with satisfied sadism.

"G-give me ten m-minutes to consider. T-ten minutes without any cords around me," whispered, hardly audible.

Leaning close to her ear, he breathed, not letting go, "Very well, little _Snape_."

She tensed up, muscles wound more tightly than the cords.

Letting go of her, he took the cords off, and strode out of the room.

Her fingers fumbling, they dug inside her pockets until she felt the note from her uncle. Upon seeing the slashed hand-writing of her uncle, new tears protruded out of her eyes, but Silwen immediately wiped them away, eyes scrutinizing Uncle Severus' last words.

"_Get Lucie to take you as close as she can to Potter's camp. Use your Patronus to guide Potter to the little lake you will see. Nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ is more crucial than this. Not me, not Draco, not Lucie._"

_How did Uncle know where Potter was,_ she wondered. Then remembering Voldemort waiting outside, she quickly decided her plan of action. And as if on cue, Voldemort entered the room again.

"I had forgotten to give you your memories back," he said, holding a vial in his vile hands. He approached her, and dropped it in her lap.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked at him, suspicious.

"Under what price? And what about Draco and _his_ memories?"

Voldemort smiled, his line of lips cracking over his teeth.

"Exchange your freedom for your memories and my promise to leave Draco and his memories alone."

Almost, she agreed but caught herself just in time. She couldn't exchange her freedom for memories. Not yet. Her uncle's dying wish had to be finished first. Perhaps, somewhere, she'd forgive herself for what she was about to do.

"Give me a day to go wherever I please, completely alone and unfollowed, unspied upon. Let me have this, and I will become your possession until either you or I die," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"What would you do in a day?" hissed Voldemort, standing in front of her.

Looking into her hands, she said, "Fulfill my uncle's dying wish."

Smirking, Voldemort let the answer slide. He'd drag more specific answers of her when she returned.

"Very well."

Silwen nodded, her chest sagging in relief.

"I promise to return after tomorrow."

"I will be waiting, little Snape," he hissed, noticing her flinch at her new pet name. With that, he turned around and seemed to disappear into the door.

She could leave! One day of freedom, one day of bliss, of peace and quiet without fear. Quickly, she left the room. In front of the door, Narcissa met her.

"Take this. There's around fifty galleons inside. Later, if we live through this, you can repay me," she said in an undertone, smuggling a small but hefty leather pouch into her hands.

Catching Narcissa by surprise, Silwen hugged her warmly, a small slip of parchment falling out of her pocket onto the ground, unnoticed.

"Thank you, Narcissa. For everything."

Narcissa nodded then stood in silence with Silwen for a few seconds.

"Enjoy yourself," Narcissa said, as Silwen stepped outside, breathing in the bittersweet smell of bargained freedom.

Her feet springing upwards, she skipped down the pathway and outside the gate.

"Lucie, come please." Disliking the fact that she had to order Lucie to come, she waited for the crack of her elf, signaling Lucie's arrival.

"Mistress! You called?"

Silwen grinned at the sight of her elf and nodded.

"Please, take me to where Harry Potter is, but far enough that he and whoever is with him won't know we are there, but close enough so that I can guide him to the pond with my patronus."

"Of course Mistress," replied Lucie, taking Silwen's hand in hers, smiling even wider then Silwen.


	14. As you Wish

Author's note: Hello everyone! Thank you for adding this story to your favorites, to your alerts, and for your very kind reviews! It means a lot to me (and all authors, I can safely) assume when you see that you/your story have been favorited or alerted or reviewed! I do happy dances and confuse my family whenever I receive notices! So, I hope you are enjoying this! Please, if you have any questions, comments, and/or complaints, please tell me. Soon, I'm going to wrap this story up; an end is in sight! However, it is still pretty foggy and formless...

OH! I almost forgot! Well, in the last chapter, I DID forget, to say that wrapped up in the little paper was a vial of memories that Severus Snape had left inside. In the note, it mentions the vial and says to give it to Harry at the last battle. I'll edit the chapter and put it in there, but since most of you probably don't reread previous chapters, I'm telling you here.

* * *

CRACK.

"Thank you, Lucie."

A dark, foggy, freezing forest surrounded them with tall trees looming over like petrified Dementors. Somewhere near, the Golden Trio's camp was hidden by Hermione Granger's clever spellwork. In front of her, Silwen could make out a small body of water. So that was the pond. Curiosity pricked at her, nagging and pulling her to investigate the pond and its contents. But she didn't dare. When the Dark Lord had her again he'd find out.

Gripping her wand that Voldemort had let her have again, she conjured a glass jar and shot a blue fire inside it. Two gears were here, now all she needed was for Harry Potter to come into view and everything would begin to work.

"You can share this with me Lucie," whispered Silwen.

"Thank _you_, Mistress," Lucie whispered back.

"Lucie, I'd rather be called 'Miss', not 'Mistress'. It sounds so old," complained Silwen, huddled beside her elf.

"But you are my new mistress, Mistress!" said Lucie, "You are the new head of the Snape family!"

Resignedly, Silwen said, "All right..."

At the mention of Snape, Silwen stiffened, looking intently at the fire, blinking rapidly. She was the last Snape. Last. Well, when she married, she'd keep her maiden name or at least combine it with her husband's. Uncle Severus had to live on, if only by his name.

The night drew on, growing even colder. Colder perhaps, than even Christmas Eve. The memory started to distract her, but Silwen quickly pinched herself and forced the memory away, concentrating on looking for any figure in the mist.

Snap! A miraculously dry branch broke, echoing around the forest. Someone was here. At last. As silently as an assassin, Silwen crawled nearer to get a better look. Several feet of the ground, something glinted and reflected the moon's light. Glasses. Potter. He had come. Click, everything seemed to go as all the gears started to turn.

Thinking of her uncle, she whispered, "_Expecto Patronum_."

Serenely, a gently glowing doe stepped in front of her. Her uncle's patronus. Tears flowed gracefully from her eyes onto the forest floor, creating a small pond of their own. The doe that she had loved, now was inside her. Yet she felt that this was more of a single event, a farewell to her uncle rather than a permanent change. A memorial of sorts.

_If my patronus stays a doe, I don't think I'll ever be able to get over it, even though it's beautiful_, she thought regretfully. If she kept the doe, she'd always feel the need to run to her uncle. And now she couldn't. Now she had to learn how to stand alone and as strongly as she could because she had no one to run to anymore, no more sweeping black robes, no more hands roughened from too many faulty potion brewings. Except for Draco. But Draco...Draco simply wasn't her uncle. And right now, it felt like she was protecting Draco from murder, much like he had protected his parents by trying to murder Dumbledore last year.

"Go guide Potter to the pond," she murmured.

She watched as Potter followed the doe. Watched him exclaim when he looked into the pond. Watched him dive inside. And then almost have herself away when Weasley appeared from the dark and jumped in after him and brought Potter back up to the surface, both of the boys gasping so loudly that she was able to hear from several yards away.

It was time to go. Before she found anything out or heard something she shouldn't.

"Lucie! If you could take us to London please!" she whispered, knowing that Lucie would hear.

"Yes Mistress," replied Lucie, her round eyes shining with pride. "You did it, mistress! Master Snape would have been so proud of you!"

Crack.

The silence from the forest felt like it had accompanied them to Diagon Alley; not a sound was heard anywhere. Of course. Curfew. Locating an inn, the pair scurried inside before a Death Eater could cite see them off.

"O-one r-room, p-please," she whispered with chattering teeth to the inn keeper.

"That's ten galleons," he replied, irate at having been woken up so early in the morning.

Reaching for the pouch Narcissa gave her, she took ten galleons and exchanged them for a key.

"You have room 374. Top floor. Check out is at 8 tomorrow morning," he snapped, pointing first to the stairs then to the clock.

"T-thank you," she said heading up to the room.

Once inside their new haven, Lucie started a fire and Silwen inspected the room. It was tidy, small, but with clean sheets a firm, bugless bed, and a large window with a beautiful view of the moon.

"What are we doing tomorrow, Mistress?"

"Buying something to wear and sending an owl to ex-Professor Lupin. He and the Order of the Pheonix must know what the Dark Lord is up to in America and that my uncle is dead. Oh, and I might buy a few potion supplies for you to take back to Spinner's End."

Yawning, Silwen put the Gemino charm on the blanket, gave one to Lucie, then crept into bed. She had done it. Uncle Severus could rest in peace.

"_Thank you_, Lucie. Thank you so very much."

"You're welcome, Mistress. Good night," said Lucie, smiling with tears in her eyes.

Silwen closed her eyes and murmured, "I love you, Lucie."


	15. Interview With a Vampire

Early rays of sun shot through the room's curtains, nearly blinding Silwen even though her eyes remained shut. Only a few more hours. Then she'd tie the not. Only a few more hours. That's all the time she'd got.

"It's nearly 8, Mistress," said Lucie, gently shaking Silwen awake.

Head turning the other way, she crept out of bed, tamed her hair into decency, took the key and walked down to the main floor, Lucie at her side.

"Thank you," she said to the innkeeper, dropping the key on the desk. And, leaving several knuts as a tip, she and Lucie left. Outside was a chilly day, sunny, but the atmosphere was as just as cold as the temperature. Few shops were open-most were boarded up-but the scarce witches and wizards present hurried up and down the alley, heads kept worriedly on the cobblestone street. Fear. A patrol of Magical Inspectors stomped through too, looking intimidating in their severe uniforms and expressionless faces.

Then, out of Leaky Cauldron strode a stumbling..."Spike," breathed Silwen. What was he doing here? "Perhaps I can get more answers for the Order of the Pheonix before I return to the Manor from him. All I need is something sharp," she thought aloud.

In the corner of her eye, she spied the Apothecary. If she could pretend to cut herself on something inside, buy a vial to save her blood in and slip it into a drink for Spike...Decisively she strode into the shop, greeting the timid keeper, a frizzy-haired, greying witch with sad, scared eyes and scarred hands.

"Good morning, Madam," said Silwen.

"Can I help you with anything?" The shopkeeper inquired, eyes furtively darting outside and back to Silwen.

"Er, yes please. I need a new potions knife and a set of vials."

"The ones I have are hanging on the shop's right wall, the vials are just underneath them," informed the woman, pointing her finger to where the tools were.

"Thank you."

Walking over to the where the witch was pointing, Silwen found what she was looking for. She pretended to inspect the knives, delicately holding them, then sliding her thumb over one of the edges. Instantly, the knife cut her thumb. Reaching for a vial, she let her thumb hang over its top as blood dripped in, causing Silwen's stomach to turn as liquid as the blood. Silwen was quite squeamish, despite dealing with horrid potions ingredients. Usually, she held her breath and dared to look at them with the barest necessity.

Soon the vial was full, and Silwen healed herself and cleaned the knife, using her wand. Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she was buying a vial of blood, she Cunfunded the keeper, put five galleons on the desk and left, pocketing the little glass.

Spike was yelling outside Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, which was closed. "I just wanted Dru back and Buffy dead! But Angel ruined it! I'll kill you, Angelus!" Kicking and screaming, Spike looked like a grown five year old wanting ice cream that had melted on the ground.

"Spike! Wash your sorrows away with a drink?"

"Mistress," warned Lucie, tugging at Silwen's dress, "Mistress, be careful!"

Silwen nodded absently, locking her eyes with Spike's, whose had swiveled once he heard his name.

"YOU! What are you doing here? I though you had a death sentence!" he yelled, stalking over.

"I'm spending a vacation day in Diagon Alley. I return in a few hours. My offer still stands. Drink?"

He looked so drunk already, Silwen was half worried that he'd refuse. However, Spike staggered over to her and nodded.

"Then to the Leaky Culdron," said Silwen. Together they strode inside the pub. It too was deserted. Yet Tom, the barkeeper, smiled at Silwen.

"Mistress! I don't think this is a good idea," Whispered Lucie anxiously, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry, Lucie!" whispered Silwen in reply. "Go and see if you can buy me a second hand robe. Here," she continued, handing Lucie the bag. Lucie then gave her ten galleons for the drinks and left.

Shaking her head, Lucie went out of the pub, and down the street, glancing back at the pub every so often.

"What do you want, Mr. Spike?"

"I don't care," he snapped, apparently not even hearing the exchange between Silwen and her elf.

Silwen walked over to Tom.

"One butterbeer, please, and one... Doubly spiked fire whiskey too, if you don't mind."

"Vampires are dangerous drunk, Miss."

Handing Tom the vial, she murmured, "Spike it with this, please, and try to disguise its taste."

Tom nodded, taking the vial, and went to prepare the drinks. In moments he returned, drinks in hand.

"3 galleons and two knuts please."

Leaving the money on the counter, she walked over with the drinks to where Spike was sitting.

"Here, Mr. Spike."

He snatched the drink and immediately began downing the drink. Seconds later, it was empty. Looking at the vampire in shock, she waited for it to take affect. Spike looked as if he hadn't even tasted anything wrong with the drink. Perhaps he was too drunk to taste anything. Good.

It wasn't long before his eyes went blank and his hands slacked on the mug.

"What are you doing here?"

"Telling the Dark Lord that the army is in England. We are ready for battle."

"What battle?"

"The battle to finish everyone off."

"Who else is here?"

"My commander, Angelus."

"Is he a vampire?"

"Yes."

"What are you planning to do after conquer England?"

"Conquer the entire Americas and put President Snow in charge."

"Who is President Snow?"

"Someone who shares views similar to the Dark Lord, who wants to control America."

"Are people fighting you in America? Who? Where are your headquarters?"

"Yes. The Slayer, her side kicks, and a wizard, Rupert Giles. A couple kids in Michigan who call themselves the 'Starkids'. Someone who calls himself the "Doctor" and his companions, Rose Tyler and Captain Jack. A resistance group in North Carolina fighting Snow. And freaks in a place called "Camp Half-blood. Our headquarters are in Sunnydale, California."

"Where do you plan to attack first?"

"Wherever the Dark Lord orders."

"Who else apart from the Death Eaters is helping you?"

"Two 'masters'. And anyone who isn't on _your_ side."

The effects of her blood were beginning to wear off; his eyes returned to alertness and his hands tightened once more around his mug. Before he regained full awareness, Silwen pushed her seat back and ran outside to the Owl Post, knocking feverishly. When the door opened, the wizard looked at the scared expression on Silwen's face and bolted the door shut.

"Two pieces of parchment, one quill, and the use of an owl please."

He gave her what she needed and showed her to a private writing desk.

Sitting down and taking deep breaths, Silwen wrote her letter to ex-professor Lupin. She relayed everything she had learned from her first chat with Spike, the chat she just barely had, and finished with informing them that Severus Snape was dead. She also told them what she could of Harry Potter and the others. That they were alive and well. She also told them about herself. That in a day, the Dark Lord would know that the Order knew, would know that she was the one who told the Order, that in a few hours, she'd promise her life to serving the Dark Lord until his death. That Snape died a prisoner to Lord Voldemort, and that his dying wish was for her to help Harry Potter in his mysteriously crucial mission. Then she signed her name. Ex-professor Lupin knew she couldn't lie; he was much too shrewd not to notice it, like many of the professors at Hogwarts.

Rubbing off a few tears, she sealed the envelope and gave it to the owl.

Once finished, an alarming idea struck Silwen. What if the letter was intercepted? She couldn't risk that.

"Are there other ways of sending a letter besides that of an owl?" Just then, Lucie's ears appeared at the windows. "She's with me."

The wizard nodded, unbolted the door and Lucie stepped in. Barely after, the door bolted shut again.

Eyes narrowing at the window, as if expecting a Death Eater or one of the patrolmen to barge in, he whispered, "Yes. I can take it directly to your address, either Apparating or using the Floo network. What is your address?"

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," said Silwen as noncommitally as she could.

"I swear, it will get there today and in total secrecy." Bravely, he whispered, "Down with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

Silwen smiled a scared smile, paid him, took Lucie's hand and squeezed it for comfort.

"Thank you, sir. Good bye. Good luck."

"Good luck to you, Miss."

Dipping her head, she stepped outside of the Owl Post, breathing hard, long breaths to calm herself.

"Here are your robes, Miss. Everything went well?"

"Yes. Thank you. And you?"

Lucie nodded, handing over the package. Silwen stepped inside a public loo and changed into the soft, exceedingly warm, second hand, grey wizarding robes that Lucie had bought. Indeed, they fit perfectly. If Lucie ever died, Silwen didn't know how she'd be able to shop for clothes. Smiling a warm smile, she exited the loo, and looked for Lucie.

It was time to return. Lucie was nowhere in sight. A nauseous feeling churned in her stomach.

"Lucie!" she called.

Spying a note on the ground, she picked it up.

_"Look up, love."_

Spike.

She raised her head and saw Spike standing on a balcony, holding Lucie over it. Silwen smiled.

_"Accio House Elf!" _

Lucie flew out of Spike's hands, and into her own. Grinning, Silwen said, "Try a love spell or potion to win Dru back! Not flinging House Elves over balconies!"

"Lucie, it's time to go," Silwen whispered, ignoring Spike's angry threats, and the tears that started to rain from her eyes.

Crack.

A foreboding manor gate stood in front of her. Dark and thick against the icy blue sky.

"Lucie, go home. Stay home unless someone tries to harm you. When that happens, seek shelter with the Order. Don't come back here."

Large eyes reproachful and tense with anxiety, Lucie Disapparated, leaving Silwen stranded in front of the manor. She couldn't open it; she wasn't a Death Eater. So she waited for the gates to open, her fear beginning to consume her once more as she thought of what she was about to do.

She stepped back as she saw a figure approach. Black robes, shining shoes, and pale, sunlight hair cropped to his earlobes. Raising his arm, he muttered something and the gates opened in a loud, rusting creak.

"Missed you," said the figure holding his hand out in an escort position.

Smiling, she ran at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him, pushing him down with such force that the fell onto the ground and rolled a few feet.

"It is absolutely stunning to see you, Draco," she when they were walking towards the manor, arms around each other as if they were bonded at the waist. Thankfully, the path between the gate and manor was quite long and it felt like a paradisaical eternity walking with him, talking about what the other had done since they had last seen each other.

Draco never let go of her, never stopped looking at her, and trying the best he could to heal the deep pain in his beloved's eyes. With all his heart, he wanted to rescue her instead of escort her to her prison. But Silwen had promised and had no choice. So he did what he could, making her laugh, teasing her, pretending nothing was wrong, hiding his tears as she hid hers.

Silwen clutched Draco, knowing what he was doing, and having trouble finding words to express how much it meant to her. So she did what she could right before the manor's grand hall. She went on her tip toes, softly put her hands on his cheeks, drew his face down and kissed him with all the strength she had left.


	16. An Unexpected Arrival

**Author's Note:** Hullo everyone! I welcome you with another chapter! I just want to say that in the end, I DO copy exactly, word for word, right out of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I think that for the end of this chapter, J.K. Rowling says it best. Don't hate me! I don't claim ownership for what isn't mine!

Oh! One of my reviewers asked how Spike was wandering around in broad daylight in the last chapter. My answer to that is Spike is wearing the gem of Amarra. This gem makes the wearer indestructible. Random fact, where Spike comes in is in Buffy Season 2, so Angelus is currently evil, and for another plot twist, I kept the Master (vampire) alive, who is serving under the command of President Snow.

* * *

Even though the blissful walk felt like an eternity, it still had to end when they arrived at the manor's Great Hall dining room doors.

"I'm supposed to leave you here, Sil," said Draco, his face uneasy.

"I-I...I think I'll see you soon," whispered Silwen, her emerald eyes bright with fear.

One last time, she hugged him desperately, then watched as he walked away from her, physically feeling his departure wrench at her heart. When he had turned a corner with a last look and a blow of kisses, Silwen raised her hand and knocked, her breath starting to stutter. As if enchanted, the doors opened just wide enough to let her squeeze through.

"Perfectly on time, little Snape," drawled the voice of Lord Voldemort. He sat at the long mahogany table's far end, yet his voice still caused the frightened girl to shudder.

"Come closer and whisper your promise!" he ordered, his eyes filled with cold humor.

As slowly as she dared, she crept up to him. His hands reached for hers, took the frozen fingers hostage and pulled her closer. Turning her head, Silwen closed her eyes to avoid the gloating glare of his red ones.

"Come whisper away your freedom," he hissed impatiently. The grip on her hands grew taught.

Bending towards the Dark Lord's nonexistant ears, she whispered, crying, "I promise to follow your every command, except for casting any or all of the three Unforgivable Curses, or make a lethal potion, or torture anyone."

A high, cold laugh swept through the room as Silwen stepped as far away as she could from the tyrant in front of her.

"Your exceptions irritate me," he said coldly, "It's too late to change them now. For your first command, never leave the manor unless I or a Death Eater escorts you. If Draco escorts you, have another Death Eater at your side."

In her hands, she clenched her wand, too scared to use it. Eyeing it, Voldemort smirked.

"Use your wand only when I tell you to. Now stop crying!" he hissed, switching the hold of both her hands into one of his hands, and wiping her tears away as she chocked, abruptly stopping. "Look at me."

Silwen opened her eyes, and looked at the Dark Lord like a mouse would look at a cobra.

"I have something to take care of. I will return shortly. When I am gone, you are to do whatever Bellatrix says. But before you go, I must know. What did you do when you left that would anger me?"

"I-I helped H-Harry Potter get something."

Anger entered Voldemort's eyes as he demanded softly, "What did you help him get? Where is Potter now?"

Voldemort cupped her chin in his hands, forcing her to keep her face turned towards him, his fingers lightly tapping her skin.

However, Silwen smiled rebelliously. "I don't know what I helped him get. All I did was lead him to a pond. I don't know where he is either. A wood somewhere. England, I thin-"

A few drops of blood slid down her cheek from where Voldemort's fingers grazed her cheek. Collapsing, Silwen clung to the ground, pleading with it to protect her.

"Your uncle knew what he was doing when he wrote that note," he murmured, crouching down, leaning over her. Brushing her hair aside, one of Voldemort's fingers swiped off the blood.

"Leave me alone," she whispered, petrified.

She only received a laugh. And then relief. He stood up and walked out of the room.

"Bellatrix!" she heard him call.

Lying there, she began to cry again until she hear the obnoxious click of Bellatrix' black leather, high heeled boots. Quickly, she rose to her feet.

"Get in the kitchen. You're our new cook," cooed Bellatrix.

Gratefully, Silwen went into the kitchen and looked around. It was a shock to see the cleanliness. Everything was in order, not even a mite of dust was seen in the light.

"You are to keep the kitchen spotless when you aren't cooking. You may not use your wand to cook," Bellatrix smirked, jabbing Silwen forward with her own wand. Startled at the prod, Silwen scampered off to Bellatrix' right, a few feet ahead.

"What do you want me to make?"

"Start with breakfast, little one," she said, once more cooing.

"Yes, Madam Lestrange," whispered Silwen, turning to the instruments.

When she turned back, Bellatrix had left, cackling to herself. Thank Merlin Lucie had taught her to cook. Deftly, Silwen looked around for a food storage. Finding one in the corner, Silwen began to assemble what she needed for omelets and started cooking. Cooking for what she supposed twenty people took over two hours, but Silwen finished it and put the plates on the Dining Room's table, freshly squeezed orange juice and ground coffee to top it off. So this is what it felt like to work like a House Elf.

Tiredly, Silwen sat on a stool, resting. However, for only a few minutes was she granted reprieve.

"Start making lunch. And after that, don't begin dinner. Don't even think about taking a rest in between until everything is cooked," snapped Bellatrix.

And the cycle began, with each cut, each kitchen utensil washing, drained Silwen's energy. Alone. _Draco must be forbidden to come and visit_, she thought miserably. _If only Uncle was here. He wouldn't care. He'd find a way to contact me. I miss him. I need him._ Uncontrollably, Silwen's eyes stormed over, tears raining down. Protecting the food from her tears, she turned away and calmed down enough, barely keeping her tears in.

...

Dinner done, Silwen simply lay on the floor, asleep. She didn't wake when compassionate arms picked her up and put her on her bed. She didn't wake, either, when soft lips kissed her forehead and whispered, "One day down."

* * *

The next day began much the same. Breakfast (French toast, sausages, tomatoes, and scrambled eggs), wash-up, and then repeating the process for lunch.

And then...Disaster.

A sudden silence descended on Malfoy Manor that made Silwen shrink in fear. The manor was never this quiet. BAM! The kitchen door swung open, Narcissa standing in the doorway. "We'd like to ask you to identify someone in our parlor. Please, follow me."

Narcissa stalked to the parlor yanked the door open, and pushed Silwen inside.

There they were. Weasley, Granger, and someone whose face was swollen. _Don't think his name, don't think his name, DON'T..._Narcissa and Lucius stood there, tense and erect, staring at Draco.

"Well boy?" rasped the werewolf.

Lurching, Silwen caught the table and steadied herself, staring at Draco, pleading with him not to give Potter away.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Draco looked at Silwen, whose expression grew more urgent. "Don't tell them!" said her eyes, speaking for her mouth.

"I can't-I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

No, no, no! This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Potter was the only one who knew enough to kill Voldemort since Dumbledore was dead. Potter couldn't be turned in.

Silwen had never seen Lucius so excited.

"Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.

The voices droned in and out, but Silwen wasn't listening any more. This couldn't be happening. Her breath came in and out quicker and quicker with each intake. Draco looked over at her, saw her chest lungs move too quickly and strode over, holding her hands in his.


	17. Malfoy Manor

_Author's note:_ Hey, in here I only want to say, more direct copying from HP#7 in the beginning. No, I don't own it, but since this is fanfiction, I don't feel too guilty. But if you dislike it, tell me please and I'll stop.

* * *

Silwen's attention snapped back into the parlor when the drawing room door opened behind Harry.

"What is this? What happened Cissy?"

Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners, and stopped on Harry's right, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes.

"But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

"Yes! Yes, it's Granger!" cried Lucius. "And beside her, we think, is Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"

"We have to be sure! Silwen! Tell me, are these the three? Potter, Granger, and Wealsey?" demanded Bellatrix, dragging the frightened girl over.

Feeling like an utter traitor, Silwen looked at the three. Undoubtedly, it was. "I believe so. But under the stinging jinx, it could be anyone."

Bellatrix slashed Silwen with a knife, sending her to the floor. "Then tell me if it's Granger and Weasley!" she shrieked.

Talking to the ground, Silwen responded, looking at Hermione with tears in her eyes, "Yes. It's them." To the three prisoners she whispered, "I'm so sorry. I-I have no choice." Standing, she crept back to Draco and hid herself in his side, silently sobbing, blocking out what was transpiring around her a second time.

There was a bang and a flash of red light: Silwen knew that the Snatcher had been Stunned. There was a roar of anger from his fellows:: Scabior drew his wand.

"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"

"_Stupefy!_" she screamed. "_Stupefy!_"

They were no match for her, even though there were four of them against one of her: She was a witch, as Silwen had experienced, with prodigious skill and no conscience. They fell where they stood, all except Greyback, who had been forced into an kneeling position, his arms outstretched.

"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.

How dare you?" he snarled, "release me, woman!"

"Where did you find this sword? Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"

"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback.

No. That was the artifact that Silwen had helped Potter find in the pond. Her uncle must have made a copy of the swords, hidden the real one, and put a fake in the vault. Why did he want Potter to have it? How did he get it when it was in Dumbledore's office...? Because Dumbledore had told him to and Uncle Severus had trusted Dumbledore more than he trusted even her. Things started to fall into place for Silwen as she thought. But one question remained unsolved: What did they need the sword for? However, Silwen knew she'd never dare to ask it aloud. One day, when everything was finished, perhaps.

"Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."

"Don't you dare to speak to Draco like-" said Narcissa, furious, but Bellatrix screamed,

"Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!" A pause. "If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed," she muttered. "The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself...But if he finds out...I must...I must know... The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"

"This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my-"

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" shrieked Bellatrix.

Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then addressed Silwen, who was standing alone; Draco had gone with the unconscious bodies. "Take them down to the cellar, Silwen."

"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except...except for the Mudblood."

Eyes cold, Silwen spat, "Don't call Granger that." She shuddered as Greyback gave a loud grunt of savage pleasure.

"NO!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"

Bellatrix pushed Silwen aside and hit Weasley across the face.

"If she dies under questioning, I"ll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Snape, and make sure they are secure. Don't let them escape, or you too will feel my knife at your neck!"

Taking a silver knife in her hand, she cut Granger loose, then dragged the trembling Hermione by the hair into the middle of the room.

Pleadingly, Silwen ushered them in front of her to another door, into a dark passageway, her wand held at her side.

"You filthy, sneaking little traitor! You cheating, lying little B-" snarled Ron in a whisper.

"It's not my fault, Weasley!" snarled Silwen, livid. "Do you have any idea what I've been through to try and help you? Do you have any idea what I've sacrificed? No. So shut up."

A terrible, drawn out scream echoed from above.

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, and he struggled in his bonds, so that Harry staggered. "HERMIONE!"

"Be quiet!" hissed Silwen. "You _have_ to get out of here, without drawing attention!"

Harry stopped dead. "What did you say? It almost sounded like you were offering to help," he said scathingly.

Silwen deserved that, especially from Potter. Hanging her head, she whispered, "I'm _going_ to help you get out of here."

Silwen took them down a flight of stairs, letting the ropes drop off. At the bottom was a heavy door. With a hesitant tap, she unlocked it and nudged the two boys inside, into a putrid smelling room. "Here, take my wand. I can't use it so you might as well. Just...don't you dare break it or I'll hex you with Draco's!" whispered Silwen who was still angry at Weasley, passing her wand to Potter. Her comment would have been funny if the situation wasn't so dire.

"Thanks," spat Ron. Harry elbowed him. "Er, thanks. I'll try not to break it...Mine's already broken. I've been using Hermione's, but it's been difficult sharing one wand between two people."

Silwen ignored Ron's remark and replied to Harry, "Oh...I'm sorry...In case you didn't know, the Elder Wand is broken. Gone. Destroyed. I snapped it into irreparable peices. But not before Uncle Severus died from a Killing Curse. And before you tell me anything more, you should know that...That Voldemort's prepared an army of 10000 to march into England and follow Voldemort into battle wherever he chooses. Also, I-I," Silwen hesitated and looked at the ground.

"What, exactly, _Snape_?" shot Ron, daggers in his eyes.

Flinching at his tone, she responed, "I've become Voldemort's...shadow and slave. I won't be able to help you again. So, I'm giving you this," she said to Harry, handing him a small vial. "When you have a chance to visit Dumbledore's office, put this in the pensive. Promise me you'll do it and watch the memories! Please!" she said desperately, her eyes filling with tears.

Hermione screamed again from overhead, and they could hear Bellatrix screaming too, but her words were inaudible, for Ron shouted again, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"

Clapping a hand over Ron's mouth, Harry said, "All right! I promise!"

Silwen gave him the vial, and had Harry charm it so it was indestructible. Good. She could breathe again. Her mission was finally complete.

Smiling, she said, "Thank you. Please remember. I must go upstairs now. The best of luck to you all."

At the top of the stairs she found Draco.

"Thank you. Even though they found out, it wasn't because of you. Thank you, Darling."

Draco nodded. "Are you all right? You've been crying. Idiotic Weasley. It was him, I know it was. He never knew how to keep his mouth shut."

Even though Silwen agreed with Ron's lack of secrecy, she objected, poking him in the ribs with a strong fingernail, then asked, "Where are their wands being kept?"

"Follow me. But you aren't going to help them, are you?"

Smiling devilishly, she replied, "No. YOU are. You are going to put the wands in your pocket, fight with Harry, smuggle the wands into his hands, and make it look as if he bested you and took them by force from you, fight a bit more, then fall unconscious. Also, if you could give them any more wands, that would be great."

An incredulous and angry look draped itself on Draco's face. "You want me to give Potter, Weasley, and Granger their wands back? After everything that they've done to me?"

Nodding, she said, "I let Potter have my wand."

"Sil, you must have a pretty good reason."

Now Silwen became incredulous. "'Good reason?' All I know is that Potter is the only one who is fit to fight the Dark Lord. Why did you think Dumbledore invested so much in him? Believed him, protected him? Because he really is our only hope! You must have agreed on some level when you decided not to turn the three of them in!"

Draco scoffed. "I just didn't want them _dead_." He sighed, which was drowned out by more of Hermione's excruciated screams. They stood in front of each other in silence. Finally he whispered, "All right. I'll do it."

Hugging him, Silwen murmured, "Thank you, Draco. Thank you."

Draco left her side when Bellatrix called for him, then quickly brushed past her. She left to the kitchens, trying to find somewhere silent, but to no avail. More and more of Bellatrix' and Hermione's screams reverberated all throughout the manor, sending awful shivers down Silwen's spine. If only she could help...

CRACK. A new sound echoed through the walls. A sound that should have been impossible. A sound of someone Disapparating. Potter must have found a way to escape. She breathed a sigh of relief until she heard Bellatrix scream, "STOP OR SHE DIES!

"Drop your wands," Bellatrix whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"

Running back to the drawing room, Silwen saw an unconscious Hermione held in the arms of Bellatrix and Potter and Weasley surrendering their weapons to the floor.

"Good!" she leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry Potter! Your death approaches!"

Judging from Potter's ill expression, and how crumpled his knees looked, Silwen had no doubt that he already knew that. Whatever connection he and Voldemort shared, she felt awful for Potter. No one should have to bear something even _like_ that.

"Now," said Bellatrix softly as Draco hurried back to the rwith the wands, "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."

Crash. A chandelier fell from the ceiling. Bellatrix leapt away, but Hermione was pinned underneath. As Ron sprang to free Hermione, Harry sprang at Draco.

_Let him win, let him win, let him win..._she chanted to herself. When Harry had all the wands in his hand, four or five or even six she counted, she smiled at Draco, running over to him, and helping him up. Narcissa ran over, and took Draco's other side, dragging him to safety.

"Dobby!" screamed Narcissa in outrage and surprise. "You! _You_ dropped the chandelier-?"

Silwen looked and shocked, saw indeed, the little elf that the Malfoys used to tyrannize when she and Uncle Snape visited their home almost every weekend in the summers when she was a child. Silwen had always resented the horrible treatment the elf received and often snuck him chocolate that she had pilfered from tables and desks.

"You must not hurt Harry Potter," he squeaked.

"Kill him, Cissy!" shrieked Bellatrix, but there was another loud crack, and Narcissa's wand, too, flew into the air and landed on the room's other side.

For a few moments, Silwen blocked everything out as she inspected Draco, lying on her lap. He was fine. Unconscious, but fine. Only minor cuts. Things that could be fixed in seconds if she had a wand or essence of Dittany.

"Ron, catch-and GO!" shouted Potter, throwing a wand at Ron. Potter then bent down, picked the little goblin up, whom Silwen had just realized was there, and Disapparated.

Silence.

"Did you help them, you little brat?" shrieked Bellatrix, instinctively raising her wand arm.

Silwen looked up into Bellatrix' infuriated face.

"Yes," she whispered. Oddly enough, she didn't feel scared at all. Maybe because Bellatrix didn't have a wand in her fingers. Potter must have taken it with him. She smiled at that. Slash! Holding a new knife, Bellatrix sweapt it across Silwen's face, cutting her deeply in the cheek

"Bellatrix, leave her alone. Finish off the scum in the manor's atrium if you must," came a cold voice, filled with indescribable fury. So Voldemort really had come back, seconds after Potter had fled to safety. That thought brought another smile onto Silwen's lips. Potter, she hoped at least, was safe. As well as Granger and even Weasley. But she couldn't begrudge Weasley. Indeed, it did seem like she had betrayed them when they found her there, and Potter most likely told them what had happened at Dumbledore's grave. Not to mention, his love was being tortured above him and he was powerless to do anything. But Ron had Hermione now. They _have_ to be safe, she thought.

Heels clacking on the ground, Bellatrix left the room, leaving Narcissa, a sleeping Draco, Lucius, Silwen and Voldemort in the room.

"Narcissa, Lucius take Draco to his room and stay out of here until you see me leave. Then take whatever is left of her," he said violently kicking Silwen in the stomach, making her moan, "and put her in the cellar. I assume it is empty now. Potter most likely has made sure the Lovegood girl and Ollivander have made their escape as well."

Narcissa and Lucius bowed to the Dark Lord, then carried their son out.

Calmly, Silwen stood and stared at Voldemort. Ready to face him.


	18. The Fruits of Bravery

"So you helped Harry Potter escape. I told you, little Snape, do not try to rebel against me!" he hissed, his fury now aimed at her and her alone.

"That was before you made me promise," she snapped at the ground.

"_Crucio!_" he shouted.

She fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Silwen's screams matched those that Granger had made, ricocheting off the parlor's walls. Not before long, Voldemort lifted the spell and walked over to Silwen, looming over her.

"On your feet, Silwen," he said, softly taking her hands in his and helping her to her feet, mocking human charity. Once she had regained her feet, he distanced himself from her and raised his wand arm once more.

"Bring out your wand and I'll teach you a lesson you won't easily forget," came his hiss.

"I can't, my Lord," she said, looking at him as if he had just made a statement about the weather.

"What do you mean?" came his habitual hiss.

"I mean that I don't have it. I gave it to Potter," she replied, looking at him in the eye.

"So the little Snape has found a shred of bravery," he scoffed, "what else did you help Potter with besides escape?"

Straightening her shoulders, raising her head, and looking at Voldemort unflinchingly, she answered, "I helped him find Gryffindor's sword. A sword that the goblin said was a copy. As far as I know, the genuine sword is still safe in Madam Lestrange's vault. I hope he breaks into the vault and steals it. And with it, I hope he defeats you."

"You-" he snarled, slapping Silwen. She cried out and began to slip to the ground, but he caught her arm tightly, forcing her to stay on her feet. "Do not, I repeat, do not _ever_ insult or defy me again." Suddenly, his angry expression changed. Softly, he sat down, carefully helping Silwen to sit in front of him. "Is there anything else you did to help? Why did you help Potter?"

"I gave him the memories that my uncle had prepared for Potter. I helped him because-because my uncle wished it. He knew Potter was our last hope for freedom, so when he knew he was going to die, he left me with instructions. Long live Harry Po-" Another slap interrupted her words.

"I should kill you for this!" Both of his arms gripped Silwen now, who looked at her oppressor with hatred.

"For what?" she said sardonically.

Understanding dawned upon his face. He chuckled, his cold breath sending shivers down her spine.

"That's what you want, isn't it? Death. Release." He paused for a moment, lifted one hand off her and straightened her hair, smirking when she didn't move until he saw the peace in her eyes. "Freedom," he whispered, "just like your uncle." He smiled then stood. "Don't move from this room, little Snape. I shall return in moments," he said his voice filled with something that revived Silwen's trembles and shudders.

Gradually, Silwen rose to her feet once more. Gone was the girl who was cowed by caresses, who trembled under a touch. Gone was the girl who wanted nothing more than to be left alone. In her place stood someone who had found some bravery. At least, until he returned. When he returned, she didn't know if she could be brave for much longer. Bravery was exhausting.

Swiftly, Voldemort returned, dragging a barely conscious Draco behind him. Draco's parents were nowhere to be seen. They must be under orders to stay away. Tenderly, Silwen looked at the young man in the Dark Lord's grip. Faint traces of scars still crisscrossed across his face and his limp body knelt down when the Dark Lord dropped it a few feet in front of her. Tiredly, he gazed at Silwen.

"Call your little House Elf here," he ordered silkily.

"Lucie, come."

CRACK. "M-mistress?" squeaked Lucie, afraid.

"Tell it to stand beside Draco."

"Lucie, do as he says," she whispered, her fear returning.

Hopping with raw nerves, Lucie did as she was told and stood beside Draco.

"You have a choice, Silwen," murmured Voldemort, gesturing at the elf and Draco. "I will allow one to live. Pick. You have five minutes. If you say you don't know, I will kill both of them," he said walking over to her, stopping when he stood behind her. Idly, he started to plait her hair into a flawless braid.

"STOP IT!" shouted Draco, rising to his feet. "Don't touch her!" Voldemort merely smirked at Draco's furious outburst and continued to braid her hair. Over the months, Silwen's thick, raven's wing black hair had grown, tumbling down her back, giving the Dark Lord much to play with. And Silwen let him without a sound.

"'Don't anger him," whispered Silwen, worriedly looking at the ground.

"She is mine," he hissed, his hands possessively playing with her hair.

Inconspicuously, Silwen's hand felt for the Dark Lord's pocket. He didn't seem to notice. Reaching in, she grasped something lean and wooden. Taking it out, she flung it across the room. Let him kill either of them now.

"Lucie, go! Take Draco with you to a place only you know of. Stay there until everything is finished!" she cried as Voldemort rushed to retrieve his wand.

Bam! The doors flew open to acknowledge Bellatrix standing there, scared. She knew Voldemort's fury better than most. If she caught him at the wrong time... But upon seeing _another_ House Elf trying to escape, her own fury matched her master's. Taking from her robe a second knife, she threw it into the disapparating elf's back. Too soon. Lucie dropped dead back onto the floor, a shocked Draco at her side.

"NO! LUCIE! Lu-" Silwen was cut off when Voldemort put a hand over her screams, supporting her as she started to sink to the floor.

"Well done, Bellatrix. Perhaps I should call you 'House Elf Executioner'," said Voldemort when he had a firm grip on his captive.

Bellatrix saw the jibe, but nonetheless bowed and said reverently, "Thank you, my Lord. Angelus and other allies have arrived for an emergency meeting. They are waiting in the Dining Hall. I have served them dinner."

"Tell them I will be there soon. This little _Snape_ hasn't learned her lesson," he murmured, gripping Silwen nearly tight enough to break her bones.

Bowing again, she left the room.

"Draco, leave us if you want to see the girl alive again. Tell your parents about the meeting."

Looking at Draco, Silwen said, through the hand on her mouth, sobbing without tears, "Take Lu-lucie o-out a-and b-bury her. Properly. For me."

It was all he could do not to run and take her out of Voldemort's grip and rush her to a bed so she recover. Her family was gone now, he realized. And here she is, wishing she was too. "I'll do it," he replied, gently picking Lucie up and cradling her.

When the two had gone, Voldemort let go. "After this meeting, you will never leave my side again, unless I give you permission. You will not speak unless spoken to in this meeting. You will stand behind my chair looking like Aphrodite, or Draco will have moments to live when the meeting is finished! Go to Narcissa's room, find something that fits, then come straight into the Dining Hall."

"Why? Why must I look like Aphrodite?" she whispered, afraid of the answer.

"Because when I trample Hogwarts, I want to offer you as a prize," he snarled, striding in the direction of the dining room as she went to Narcissa's.

On her way, Silwen tried to gather any bravery, but her small store had been depleted when she had deliberately baited Voldemort into killing her. She had almost succeeded. If only she had pushed him a little further.

Weeping, Silwen remembered Lucie's wide, large eyes looking at her in deep concern, not for Lucie's own sake but for Silwen's, moments before Lucie was murdered. Her elf had died because Silwen had been foolish enough to think that she could have saved her elf. Just like she thought she could save her uncle. But both perished. Both were...gone forever. And it was her fault. All her fault! "Draco isn't going to die because of me. I'll die first if it comes to that," she croaked.

* * *

The door was open when Silwen arrived, and lying on the bed was the dress that she had worn to meet Spike. Last she remembered, it had been torn. Now, however, it was mended perfectly and the silver thread shone softly from the hallway's light. Taking as much time as she dared, she changed into the dress, combed through her hair to tame it, shivering as she remembered the last fingers to touch it. But she let it down, out of the horrid braid. Finished, she walked to the Dining Room, hesitating to knock, her ivory hand trembling before the immense ebony door.

"Sssss," hissed something from the floor. Silwen jumped. Nagini. Somehow, Nagini leered at Silwen as the snake rose its head, almost level with Silwen's. Creaking, and breaking the trance that Nagini had lulled her into, the doors opened.


	19. The Bad Beginning

Author's note: Hi everyone! So, BlueNeutrino, the answer to your dinner question is here! For those of you interested, I have a one-shot in which right before Silwen returns to Malfoy Manor the second time and promises away her freedom, she meets the Doctor and his entourage of River, Amy, and Rory the Roman.

* * *

"Ah, Nagini. There you are," said Voldemort fluidly. Inspecting Silwen, he motioned wordlessly for her to take her stance behind him at the far end of the table.

Walking up to her master, she passed all of his guests. Many Death Eaters sat there, including Draco. But there weren't only Death Eaters. Spike was there, sandwitched between a beautiful brunette in a white lace, 19th century night gown and a man in a dark leather jacket with pale skin and a gorgeous face. Sitting next to him was someone who-who didn't look quite right. Short pale blond hair, brown eyes, and tense fingers tapping a beat of four on the table, dressed expertly in a suit, his eyes constantly roving around the table, never looking looking at someone for longer than five seconds. On the table's other side next to Bellatrix sat a boy who could have only been two years older than she was, with an orange, torn shirt that read, "Camp Half-blood" on it. Who were they all? Eerily, in the fireplace, a head was inside, someone was using Floo powder to be in the meeting. Taking a closer look as she passed him, Silwen recognized the matted hair, greasy and warted face of Alecto Carrow. So the new Headmaster of Hogwarts' presence was required. In a couple steps, Silwen found her place, and stood.

"Now that everyone is here, I shall make the introductions," starting with Greyback, who had somehow managed to gain enough honor to sit immediately at his right, Voldemort said the names of everyone. The boy was Luke, servant of Kronos. Many Death Eaters were mentioned, Silwen stiffening at "Draco Malfoy, our newest member", then "Drusilla, Spike, Angelus, all representing President Snow and the Master," Spike looked at Silwen, his feeling of revenge wanting to striker her. After Angelus came the name, "Master, a Time Lord", and continued with several more Death Eaters, ending with a stunningly gorgeous, auburn haired teenager and someone who looked distinctly muggle. "Mr. Edward Cullen, and my scientist, Dr. Horrible."

Dazedly, Silwen stared at Mr. Edward Cullen. How could someone be that pale yet so handsome? And those eyes...like molten gold churning, frothing, changing...Edward smirked at her and chuckled as if he had used legilimency. But with legilimency, you couldn't know exactly what a person was thinking. What then...? Suddenly, something caught her eye in the corner. Several bodies lay there. Scrutinizing them to the best of her ability, she recognized the musty cloaks, and mud-ridden boots. The Snatchers. That must have been the dinner Bellatrix mentioned earlier. Pity seeped from her as she looked at the bodies. Even if they were Snatchers, they didn't deserve to be a meal.

Breaking through her thoughts, Voldemort ordered, "Silwen! Pour my guests their drinks. Everyone, this is my indentured servant Silwen Snape. When the battle is over, I will award her to the bravest fighter if they desire." Every male eye was trained on her, evaluating. Deciding if she was worth expending so much energy over. The Time Lord stared at her smiling, faintly tracing his lips with his tounge. While pouring wine or blood in cups, she shuddered visibly under his stare. Several scoffs and chuckles sounded around the room.

"How do we know she's worth fighting for?" spat the the Master. Voldemort fixed him with his red slits on the speaker. "Because she'll do anything you tell her to."

The Master raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Smirking, Voldemort replied, "That's confidential until you've won her. But I promise you, she's more obedient than any slave you'll ever have. Isn't that right, Silwen?"

Looking at Voldemort while pouring wine for Draco, she nodded and moved on._ Blood for the next few, she thought_, switching pitchers. Finishing with the smirking vampires Silwen moved on to the Death Eaters. When their wine had been served she was about to pour wine into Mr. Cullen's glass when he murmured, "Blood, please."

Silwen stood there, shocked. But he didn't look like the other vampires. None of them were so spectacularly...statuesque, nor so pale, and come to think of it, they had normal-looking eyes when they had human faces on. "I'm a different race of vampire," he said chuckling so melodiously it sounded like he was singing. ...How did he know what she was thinking? Mr. Cullen's chuckle grew louder, entrancing her.

"Herumph," coughed the man beside the vampire. "Um, could I have some...frozen yogurt instead?" he asked, his black goggles over his eyes. American. Interesting. Like Mr. Cullen, yet much less refined and much more colloquial. Genuine.

"Er, if I had a wand I could turn your wine into frozen yogurt, but I have none with me," she replied, her voice breaking at the end. Harry reappeared in her mind, almost dragging a tear out of her.

Laughing again, Mr. Edward said, "Use mine." His eyes probed, and Silwen feeling like they were inside her, reached for his wand. He handed it to her, brushing his fingers over hers. Shrinking back, Silwen shivered at his ice-cold touch. No, Spike was much warmer than that. Odd. What kind of vampire was he? "One not to be taken lightly," he murmured, his liquid eyes dancing. She shivered again, noticing the vamipre's _extremely_ sharp canines. Did he use a knife to sharpen them? Mr. Cullen simply grinned, as if amused by something she had...said. Was it possible, this muggle's idea of "mind-reading"? Is that what he was doing? Could she block him out if it was true? His grin grew into a smirk and he shook his head. "Clever girl," he whispered.

"Eye of rabbit, harp string hum, _turn this wine into...frozen yogurt,"_ whispered Silwen, unsteady from Mr. Cullen's passing threat. Nonetheless, the red of wine turned into thick red frozen yogurt. She handed the wand back to the vampire, taking great care not to touch him again.

"Thanks," said Dr. Horrible, smiling tightly.

"Silwen, return," snapped Voldemort. He was impatient to begin the meeting. They had urgent matters to discuss.

Obnoxiously, the Master said, "I think we should be allowed to 'test' her to see if the girl is worth it. Let her give all of us a back massage for while we talk."

Incredulously, Angelus snapped, "A massage? Look, Master, this really isn't the time...or the place."

But Voldemort was considering. Silwen hated being touched. But did she like touching? Discussions. Silwen couldn't be allowed to hear them, he thought. Half an hour before, he had used legilimency to see what Silwen had meant by "helping Harry". He had also seen then, that she had written a letter to the Order. If she did that again, their planning would be worthless. Massaging might keep her mind off the meeting. It was crucial to keep her in the dark with the plans. Clicking his fingers, he spoke to her.

"Start with Greyback. Massage his back and hands for ten minutes then move on down the table. Preform your best on all my guests for ten minutes _each_. If I find any of them dissatisfied, I will have you give them another massage after the meeting for how long _they_ please," he commanded, sadistically smiling at her terrified expression. "Don't listen to our plans. If you hear anything, you will keep it secret and you_ will not_ share anything you hear in any form with anyone or anything! Do you understand?" he hissed, his fingers squeezing her arm until she nervously nodded.

He released her, dark, angry bruises remaining on her arm as a reminder.

"Over here, girlie. I'm waiting," crooned Greyback, leering.

Mechanically, she went over to his back, her fingers roving over it, trying to find somewhere to start. Only, with his back she found it hard to discern between shapely muscles and ones that needed to be soothed. However, she did her best, remembering the techniques that Dumbledore had taught her.

Dumbledore was an expert masseuse, having learned from a muggle neighbor who was one for a living. Finding that she had a natural ability for massage and strong, enduring fingers, he showed her a back's physiology, and where the main stressed muscles were. taught her on makeshift dummies and dolls how to find stress knots, and how to undo them through gentle or rough routines. He showed her what her an entire hand could do, what single fingers could find and fix. Also, he taught her to learn about someone's life through what their back showed, to differentiate between stress and sadness, to heal the hurt, through massage. But she rarely had someone to practice on except for Dumbledore, and once in her life, her uncle. Never, had she mentioned her knack to Draco. Now, she wished she had. And to Lucie as well. Lucie, she thought, was the one who needed a massage after what she did every day for her and Uncle Severus. But now Silwen would never be able to. Never.

The discussion began and quickly heated up, bringing her thoughts back to the dining room. Everyone was arguing and shouting over everyone else, several Death Eaters were standing already, spitting insults across the table.

"Order!" said Voldemort suddenly, making his wand emit red sparks. Instantly, the room was silent. Silwen moved to the next back; the first ten minutes were over.

"Thank you, little one," rasped Greyback. "You have a gift."


	20. Reading Between the Lines

**Author's notes: **

Sorry! This chapter is really long, and perhaps, really boring too. It's all massages. Bare with me. This note isn't really helping the length either... You can skip this, no major plot points happen because Silwen was forced to block out all of the discussion so she really has no idea what they are talking about around her... But maybe Draco will tell her what happened in the next chapter...If you stay and read this, I'll be eternally grateful! And if you reviewed, I think I'd faint in pleasure! and in my mind buy you all chocolates and flowers and autographed copies of your favorite books (fiction/non fiction)!

In case any of you were wondering, the human guests ate a feast similar to one at Hogwarts.

From this chapter you might think that Silwen has some sort of special power. But no. She is cursed to tell the truth for her entire life. Her uncle started to teach her magic when she was five, so she entered Hogwarts as an already super-accomplished witch with strong magical ability, but not a super power...

A note about Dumbledore. When Severus taught, he took Silwen with him to Hogwarts. But since he was teaching all day, he took her to Dumbledore's office and Dumbledore took care of her. That's when he taught her a perfect Disillusionment Charm, and all his wonderful massaging techniques. When Silwen turned ten in April, the following September she started going to classes (with special permission from Dumbledore to start a year early) and no longer needed a nanny. She still visited him often though. She continued to study massage from books checked out from the library, sharing what she learned with her Dumbledore, her beloved nanny.

Oh, if you ever notice any inconsistencies, please tell me! And also, are there any villains you'd like to add? I am simply at a loss of who else is at the table. It feels like it's a rather large table with mostly Death Eaters on one side and "guests" on the other. I just can't think of any more guests to put in...Suggestions are welcomed! Thank you!

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:)

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Silwen shuddered then let the new back consume her attention, even if it belonged to an anonymous Death Eater. Tense with contained excitement. Little knots dotted over her back like hills on a prairie. Hands starting to sting, she moved on to the next back when another ten minutes had passed. And then the next next, her hands cramping painfully. On the new back, she started to use her elbow and wrists to let her sore fingers and palms have some reprieve. Because of the scarce amounts of food she had received, her elbows were nearly as skinny as her fingers, and for once she was glad; they still let her preform massages to the best of her ability.

Tired, but forced to press on, Silwen finished one side of the table. Lucius was next. She waited a moment while he lifted his cloak off, flexing her fingers and shaking them out. This was a back she cared about. Even if its owner wanted to turn Potter in. Silently, she forgave him for that. Her hands began to diagnose his back, starting on his shoulders and slowly working down. Little knots like anthills ebbed away under her touch. The minutes were too short; Silwen had only reached half-way down when she had to switch. Parting, she squeezed his shoulder in farwell and moved on to his wife's back, which was just as tense as her husband's.

Narcissa had perfect composure if you looked at how she sat and stood. But no one saw the bunched up shoulder muscles holding her chest high, no one kneaded them. When Silwen felt them relax, she finally able to breathe. Helping Narcissa meant much to her. Narcissa, too, was silently forgiven for trying to give Potter to the Dark Lord. Narcissa merely wanted to ensure her son's and husband's safety and life. Much like Silwen wanted to do with her family. Ten minutes over, Silwen drew a heart on Narcissa's back then switched to Dolohov's.

Recalling all of the atrocities he had preformed, she harshly dug her nails into him, relishing his grunts of pain. Indeed, she preformed her best to heal, but none too gently. She looked up to see the next back after the time was up and froze. Oh no. Not him.

Eyes gleaming, the Master nodded as if to say, "Oh yes." He took off his suit jacket, revealing a thin cotten shirt. Trembling, she began. The anger she had emitted towards Dolohov fled, leaving unadulterated fear. She looked at the next back. Draco's. _Hold on. Just hold on. Only one more. _A tear dripped onto his shirt and Silwen heard a soft snort. "Little coward," he gloated in a whisper, "Perfect for me because I won't have time to tame you when I claim you." It seemed like time was deliberately slowing down. Of course. While massaging a Time Lord's back, time would behave abnormally. Silwen felt the man's gloat on his back as he leaned forward, giving her more work. She remained on his shoulders, and smiled as she felt him tense for a moment. Angrily, perhaps? His back had more knots than everyone else's combined, but she refused to let herself feel any sympathy for him. She shuddered to think what would happen to her if he won, if she was "given" to him. ... Finally, his time was over and Silwen escpaed from him and leapt over to Draco.

An idea sparked inside her. _Hey,_ she traced on his back with a finger, the other fingers and hand searching for and making knots disappear. Draco was smart enough to act as if nothing had happened. _I'm surprised you were allowed to come._ Her left hand cured one knot and began on another. Draco shrugged as if saying,_ I'm a Death Eater, why wouldn't I come?_ For a moment, both hands ran up and down Draco, letting him feel how much she had missed him. _It's good to talk to you even if it's only a one sided conversation._ It was lucky her hands were used to writing quickly with quills or else she could have said little in the given time span that suddenly felt like it was too short. _If you can, stop by my room tonight and wait for me. We'll be able to talk better._ That written, she concentrated on comforting him, smoothly tracing his muscles, working gently with his shoulders. As a parting gift, she drew a heart on his back and left him, not daring to linger in case her next patient saw. Spike. Well, if she had to then she might as well get it over with as soon as possible.

Spike chuckled as she started without waiting for him to take off his leather jacket. Thinking to irritate, he took off his jacket while she was massaging. However, she preferred it. The less contact she had with Spike the better. Plus, it let her swelling hands rest for a few moments by hovering. When Silwen began in earnest, she was astounded to see how smooth his back was. Since he seemed so calm, she relented, saving her strength for the last few backs. Ironically, it was Spike's back that let her rest the most, not Draco's.

Moving on again at last, her fingers met exquisite silk and a tiny back. Drusilla turned to look at her and smiled. "Little bird is going to visit my room later," she sing-sang, turning back to the meeting. Under the table, Silwen noticed Drusilla's hand reach and hold onto Spike's hand. Drusilla's back, too, was simple. Like dough that had already been kneaded. Here too, she focused on the back's surface, healing scarce and tiny knots, feeling Drusilla exhale when her turn was over. Before Silwen moved on, Drusilla whispered in the same sing-song voice, "Little birdy did well, she did. But little bird has so many _secrets_ inside." She shuddered and stepped behind Angelus' chair.

"Skip me," said Angelus.

Gladly. However, that wasn't possible. "I can't. Not unless the Dark Lord allows me to skip you," she whispered, one finger tentatively massaging his neck. Angelus reached back and held her hand still.

"_Tom,_ let the girl skip me," he spat, interrupting Bellatrix mid-sentence.

"Shut up!" she snapped. "How-how _dare_ you-"

Angelus ignored Bellatrix. "Let the girl skip me, _Tom._"

His face deliberately emotionless, Voldemort said, "Bellatrix, be silent! Silwen, move to the next back. _Angel_, any comments on our new subject? How do they fit with your master's plans?"

The next back. She had to move on. But she moved as slowly as possible. Mr. Edward's back. A back she hated more than Spike's. He turned to her, reached out, and pulled her behind him, darkly chuckling under his breath. Fine. _If he wants to play cat and mouse, then I'll play cat and let him figure out who he is_, she thought to herself, her fingers vindictively finding a sore spot to attack. Touching his back was like touching an iceberg, even through the thick wool sweater he was wearing. Instinctively, she drew away. A movement occurred in less than a second; suddenly, Edward's sweater was gone, revealing a thin, well-cut, short-sleeved shirt. She had ten minutes._ Let's see what I can learn._ One hand viciously prodding a rather large knot, she tried to scratch with her nail, _You can read minds._ Imperceptibly to anyone who wasn't hyperaware of him, he nodded. _Why?_ she thought, now focusing only on trying to hurt him with both hands. No response. _You aren't planning to 'win' me, are you?_ she thought, anxiety taking hold for a minute. He shook his head, chuckling again. Another idea hit her._ Do you have a soul?_ His shoulders tensed. She continued, _or don't you, like Spike?_ Laughing soundlessly, he shook his head. Then he _had_ a soul. _So why are you irritating me so? And why is your back exactly like marble in the Antarctic?_ Edward merely chuckled. "I can actually feel you trying to help my muscles, you know. And you are the first human to come so close," came an almost noiseless murmur followed by another chuckle. _Let's see...There._ Gathering all of her strength, fury and adrenaline, she drove her fingernail as hard as she could into a tiny nerve ending that was close to the epidermis. To her exhausted delight, he jumped, turned to her and scowled. 3.2.1. Only the muggle left (who still had a bit of melted yogurt left).

"Here. Let me take me lab coat off," he whispered. Patiently, almost collapsing, she waited. When he had taken if off, she began her last massage, despite the furious protests of her finger muscles. Gently, she started with his neck muscles, helping the blood rush down, wishing he'd take off the silly goggles. To her surprise, he lifted them off his head and put them in his lap. After several minutes, something began to tug her away from him. But she ignored it. Dr. Horrible's back was even worse than the Master's. However, his knots and clenched up muscles seemed to originate from grief. The way he hunched over slightly, yet with tight shoulders made her think of him putting his chest high even though he might barely be able to face each day. What had happened to Dr. Horrible? Only one thing that devastating could have. She knew that pain. Knew that her back must be similar.

Every part of him was tight. Silwen's feet started to walk over to the chair next to Dr. Horrible's. But she fought and stayed. What was going on? The next chair contained someone who was _not_ to be disturbed. ..._ Perhaps Dr. Horrible was a kinder villain. More sincere, _She thought since most of the tightness came from presenting the right face and posture to people. She was exuberant to feel some of the strain and tenseness ebb away, to feel his muscles relax, and to watch the knots fade. For much longer than ten minutes she stayed there until she couldn't feel a single not, or bunched up muscle left, despite the forceful pulling of her body. "Your massage is over," she whispered, her voice filled with empathetic emotion.

He turned to face her and, with very bright eyes, like a sun before a rainstorm, and whispered, "Thank you, um, Silwen, right?" She nodded, her knees going weak and folding. Quickly, he stood, catching her and setting her on the ground. Then he returned to his seat and put the goggles back on. Moaning, Silwen realized she had to go back to her post. Maybe that's what the tugging was. Exhausted, she crawled there, and ever so slowly, stood once more, her legs trembling visibly with the effort. Dr. Horrible and Draco looked at her, but said nothing. Spike and _Cullen_ stared too, smirking. Gits. Cullen's smirk widened. Her knees trembled harder. To stop from collapsing, Silwen desperately locked her them.

Minutes passed and she realized she hadn't finished the table. That's why she felt the pull. One more back remained. No. S-she couldn't do it. What would _he_ do? Obviously, _he_ didn't realize that he was part of the table. ... Or did he? Was this a test? Her legs took her to the back of his chair. Futilely, she hid her hands and clenched them together. She wouldn't let herself. But she had no choice. No. But yes. Shaking from fear she rose her hands to his shoulder. In moments, the room grew silent, all eyes on her red, blistered fingers. Silwen felt his presence in her mind. Voldemort was using legilimency on her. And she let him in, begging to let her stop, for him to command her back to her post. He didn't.

Her hands began to find knots. And she loosened them, loosened the knots of the Dark Lord. Healed the man who had murdered her uncle. A cold chuckle rang around the room.

"Where were we, Alecto?" he asked, continuing the meeting. The silence fell away and the conversation continued as Silwen continued to cure Voldemort's back aches. Shoulders of ice, inhumanly narrow, sharper than any dagger on Earth. Every ounce of humanity was ripped out of him. Whoever Voldemort was, he wasn't human. But she didn't dare think more about it; she was scared enough just touching him, let alone wonder about what he was touching. With every touch, her stamina lessened much quicker than on any back, a tear spilling every so often. Then, at last, ten minutes of horror ended. Crawling to her post, she collapsed and asleep.

Sleep protected her from the jeers and jests, shielded her from the vicious prods and pokes, saved her from the threats, and even orders of Voldemort; she was too far gone. Asleep. Her body simply couldn't move any more. She didn't hear the bark telling Draco to take her to her room. Yet somewhere, she felt her slight body being lifted off the ground by protective arms that wrapped warmly around her. Dimly, she felt her body being lowered to her bed, lips brush against her forehead, and blankets cover her, a hand tucking her inside them. Soon after, her mind shut down completely, and for the entire night, didn't even have the energy to conjure up a dream.

The words, "I love you, Sil," floated away, unheard in the privacy of her room. All through the night, Draco held her. He didn't sleep a wink, but rubbed essence of Dittany into her hands, wrists, and elbows, whispered romantic and frightfully silly ditties into her hear. "Please, Sil! W-wake u-up." Before dawn, before she woke, he was ordered to leave. "I'm so sorry. I am so, _so_ sorry." A couple tears fell onto her face, into her slightly agape mouth, and onto her eyelids. That woke her. Eyelashes fluttering, she saw him.

"Draco?" she murmured, but before she could see clearly, he had left.


	21. Faith, Hope, and Charity

**Author's note:** So...here we are with another chapter. This is a fluffy one. Extremely fluffy and I love it. Silwen gets to breathe, and even laugh in this one! Hooray! Umm...I was going to say something important, but...that ship sailed a few seconds ago and I can't see it anymore.

Umm...This chapter has a tiny bit of cliche in it, but the idea came and I couldn't resist. It just felt...like something Silwen needed...

I don't own the song "Fascination". The only right I claim is the right to love it. lyric source: /Nat%20King%20Cole%20Lyrics/Fascination%

To Blueneutrino, you can ignore this, (just the whine part). I hope you enjoy it, please, review/comment if you can! Reviews/comments a day keeps an depressed author away. Please, just tell me if you like it in one or two words?

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In her bed, Silwen woke, afraid to open her eyes.

"Several of my guests have complained, little Slytherin," he crooned, his red eyes glowing in anger "The Master, Mr. Cullen, Spike, and Dr. Horrible-"

Jolting upright, she stared at Voldemort. "Dr. Horrible...?"

The Dark Lord continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Are all unsatisfied. " Voldemort sat on the bed, his fingers searching for hers. Finding them, be took them out of the blanket and inspected them. Cracks cracked and cut her fingertips, all her fingers were entirely swollen as if stung by a bee, and on elbows, large bruises proudly swelled in a thick circle. On the finger she used to prick Cullen with, a large bruise, too, was smugly sitting on its top. If someone gave over three hours of massages, when she had never done over h, her fingers would suffer. With a sudden bout of strength, she tried to pull away from him, but he clenched his bony fingers, locking hers tightly inside and forced blood out of the cracks. Her eyes shone with tears inside, but she didn't cry.

Smirking, he went on speaking, massaging her fingers, watching her wince every time her pressed down. "Your hands are unfit to redo massages right now. Today you are dismissed from my side in order for them to recuperate. Do not enter the Dining Hall. When the meeting is finished, you will be waiting outside the doors."

Shutting her eyes, Silwen asked, "W-when will t-that be?"

"After I talk to you. That chat will be at exactly eleven o'clock."

She looked at the clock. Right now, it was six in the morning. 15 hours. And for the first three, she decided to go back to sleep. Lying back on her bed, she closed her eyes, positioned her hands so they were comfortable, and went back to sleep. Dreams wove themselves into protective blankets around her and at nine o'clock, she awoke, still feeling the soft fabric of her dreams on her shoulders.

"Hey," came a voice not too far away.

"Hey. Was that you earlier—before _he_ came in?"

"Yes. How are you hands?" asked Draco, concerned.

Smiling at him and sitting up, she responded, "They're—" she looked down and to her surprise, her elbows' bruises were sulking, half their size, every single crack had sealed up, and her fingers had completely deflated.

"Healed," finished Draco smiling. To the question on her face, he responded, "Last night, I visited St. Mungo's via Flewpowder, bought the best slavie I could find from them, and came back. After that, I used the entire jar on your elbows and fingers."

He stood and walked over, sat beside her on the bed, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Thank you," she whispered, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. Draco reached for her hands and delicately held them. Flinching away instinctively, Silwen whispered, leaning against him, "Sorry."

A brief flash of anger ran through Draco. Voldemort had traumatized her so much that a small touch caused Silwen to immediately cringe away. _Last night must have been more horrid for her than I'll ever realize_, he thought. "It's okay, Sil. It's okay," he murmured to her, glad, at least that she was leaning against him. But he didn't pull her closer, too worried that he might frighten her again. Tentatively, her fingers reached for his and willingly, he responded and held her hand. "I'm so sorry about last night. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything."

"What matters is that it's over," she replied, exhaling peacefully._ You couldn't have done anything to help._ "So, how are you here? Why aren't you at the meeting?"

"My father told me that there was an age limit for this meeting," he chuckled. "Edward Cullen had a tantrum when they considered excluding him."

Silwen laughed. "Serves him right. When was he bitten? How old was he?"

"1918, he was 17 years old."

She laughed harder. "So they were going to keep an almost 100year old adolescent out because he was too young?"

"It was my father. He thought that since I wasn't allowed to be present, no adolescent should," Draco answered, laughing as well.

Yawning, she stood up and walked over to a newly-placed dresser.

Silwen blushed, then asked, "Would you mind stepping out for a minute? I just want to change. I'll meet you outside."

Nodding, Draco stood, hugged her briefly, pretended not to notice her momentary freeze, then went outside. _It's going to take so much to help her feel safe again. And I think I have an idea of how to help her with it..._A small grin slipped over his face as he waited for his friend.

A few minutes later, Silwen emerged in a simple red T-shirt hemmed in golden thread with Gryffindor spelled on the bottom, and comfortable-looking jeans.

"My mother gave you something _red_?" Draco said, shocked, and very pointedly ignoring the insignia on the dress' bottom. Smiling, Siwen nodded, shyly taking his hand. Encouragingly, he held it, and drew her down the hallway, away from the dreaded Dining Room.

"So, do you have any plans? Or will I have to think of some sort of mischief we can do?" she asked.

"Well, breakfast is ready in the kitchen. Then after, I'd like to...teach you something. Then we can eat lunch, and after that, it's your turn to choose," he said smiling secretly.

"Perfect."

The kitchen was cosily unorderly, with two steaming mugs, two plates filled with food, and utensils set on the cutting table in the middle, which was clean. For a second, Draco let go, fetched two chairs from the corner, then sat on one, while Silwen sat on the other.

"This smells delicious, thanks. Who made it?"

"Er...Dr. Horrible..."

"But he complained to _him _about the massage I gave him last night! Why would he do this the next morning?"

"He told me to tell you that he did like his massage and pretended to complain, 'like a boss', so he could talk to you for a little while in private."

"Oh...How...nice of him," she said after a pause.

"Be careful, Sil. Just because—"

Annoyed, she interrupted him and snapped, "I know. Don't trust strangers. Always be on your guard. ... You sound like Lucie when she worries too much. I'm capable of taking precautions without being told to!"

Draco's mouth hardened. He knew she knew. He knew she was capable. He just...wanted to imply that he cared about her by telling her to be careful. _But_, he thought, _she doesn't want to be coddled and that's what I sounded like_.

Cooly, a silence drew, each eating their food with jabs.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you," said Silwen, breaking the silence, offering her fork filled with melted cheese and eggs as a peace offering.

"I shouldn't have made it sound like an order," he said, opening his mouth, putting some of his scrambled eggs and tomato on his fork and entwining his arm around hers.

Simultaneously, they put their forks in each others' mouth, and continued eating normally.

"So now that we're finished, where are we going?" asked Silwen, plate clean.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeees...Why?"

"Then don't move," said Draco. He stood up and over her eyes tied a thick Slytherin tie. _Blinded by Slytherin, covered by Gryffindor,_ she mused.

Taking her hand in his, he guided her off the chair. "Do you want me to carry you to your destination? Or would you rather walk?"

"I'll walk, thank you," she replied uncertainly, gripping his hand for balance.

"Don't worry, Sil. I've got you." His hand was strong and firm under her grip.

Slowly, then more quickly, they walked through various halls, through doors and then, "Wait here." He left her for a second, and Silwen heard a small click, creeeaak. Whooosh! A frisky breeze blew through her hair. A hand touched hers and led her through the wind and... "Where?"

"We are on my terrace," he whispered. "Are you cold?"

Despite her desire to refuse, Silwen nodded. The hand holding hers left for a while, only to return to her shoulders, putting a warm thick cloak around her, guiding her through the sleeves.

"Thank you. Now can the blindfold come off now?" she pleaded. Faint music reached her ears. "It was fascination, I know, and it might have ended right then, at the start..."

"_You_ listen to muggle music?"

"Certain songs. This one was recommended."

"By whom?"

"That's a secret."

Silwen cocked her head. Draco had no muggle-born friends. Several half-bloods, but they all denied their heritage. That left...no one. Unless, "Dr. Horrible?"

"Perhaps." Silwen could hear the smile in his voice.

"I still have my blindfold on."

"I'm well aware of that, darling," replied Draco, starting the music over without leaving her side. "I have my mother's wand. She's let me borrow it until I get mine back."

Smirking Silwen responded. "Your mother is very understanding."

Gently, Draco lifted their hands, put his other on her shoulder and slowly began to dance. Hesitantly, Silwen attempted to follow his lead.

"Back right, side left, pause. Forward left, side right, pause," he whispered, pulling her close, sealing the gap between them. He started the song over and slowed the beat.

"1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3..." Draco murmured in her ear.

"Just a passing glance, Just a brief romance..."

And klutzily, she began to step in time, her feet on top of Draco's until she got the rhythm down. The volume of the music, and breeze died down as if turned by a switch, and Draco let her blindfold fall.

"And next moment I kiss you; Fascination turned - to - love..."

Draco picked her up and twirled her around him, smoothly putting her down once more. She is so light. Today must have been her first full meal in weeks. Gazing into her eyes, searching for any sign of fear or even discomfort, he was relieved to find none. Only peace.

"I never said 'Thank you' for my massage..." he whispered.

"You don't have to."

She put her hands to his face, and pulled him down while his own hands gingerly lifted her up, and pressed her lips delicately up to his own. He held more tightly on to her, slightly parting his lips, smiling. A hand ranthrough her thick waves of midnight black hair, holding her head up. Closing her eyes, Silwen exhaled slowly, smiling too, and loving the warmth inside her. Something that hadn't been there for months and months. Ever since last year's Yule Ball.

They waltzed through morning, floating into afternoon after an exquisite lunch, self-prepared, and spent several hours reading _Le Mort D'Arthur_ (Merlin was, after all, in Slytherin) aloud to each other in Draco's expansive library, sitting in a large leather armchair.

At 9 o'clock, when Gwinevere had come running to Arthur for forgiveness, they called a break from reading, and went into the kitchen for dinner. Grinning and blushing when they saw the candlesticks and small feast of gourmet food—creamy leek soup, nutty bread with a crunchy crust and a soft, steaming inside, delicately cooked zuccini with parmesan cheese lightly sprinkled for zest, with garlic, lightly roasted chicken escalops—they sat down and enjoyed the last two hours they had.

"Thank you. I-I haven't been this happy since before—before my uncle...and Lucie..." Silwen looked at her crystal clean plate, smudging it with a salty tear.

"That's why I did it," Draco murmured, lifting her chin up again, and brushing off new tears from her face. "Both of them would have wanted you to be happy today of all days."

"Why? What's today?" she asked sharply, her eyes narrowing.

Grinning arrogantly, he responded, taking her hands in his, "You forgot...You forgot your own birthday. Today's April 22nd, 1998."

Shock jumped on her face. "What?"

Draco got off his chair and hugged her closely. "Happy birthday, Sil."

Her birthday. 17. Her most important birthday. Celebrated without her even knowing. Without Uncle Severus and Lucie. She had thought they'd always be there. She wiped a couple more tears off her face, then whispered, "Promise me you won't die, too."

"Sil, I—"

"Please. I-I won't be able to go on if you go too."

Turning her chair around to face him, he said, his own eyes wet, "All right. I promise. I promise to survive. Silwen Astoria Greengrass Snape, I promise to live for _you_."

Standing, hugging him back, she murmured in a muffled whisper, "Thank you."

"I love you, Silwen."

"I love you too. Forever and always."

"Oh. I almost forgot. My mother sent me a note to top our date with whipped cream and a cherry on top."

"On top of what?" she asked smiling; she had no idea Narcissa was so witty.

Draco disappeared for a minute then reappeared, holding a beautiful, petite, chocolate cake with a dash of whipped cream and a cherry, and crowned by seventeen small green candlesticks. "Moelleux au chocolat. That's what my mother's note said. The dinner and cake were her gifts to you."

"My favorite cake."

Setting the cake on the table, he handed her a knife. "She knew. I think your uncle told Lucie who told Narcissa just in case something happened and the two of them couldn't make it for you. ... Are you going to make a wish?"

"Of course," she said. Sucking in a large breath of air, she thought,_ I wish...I wish for the Dark Lord to be defeated._ Whoosh! Every candle flame went out in a wisp of smoke. She smirked, satisfied._ Let's see if it's going to come true now..._

Happy tears glistened like jewels in the soft candlelight as she cut through the cake, amazed at how perfect the texture was—not too hard yet not gooey either—and handed Draco a piece. "So my uncle and Lucie did manage to give me something after all." She cut another one for herself and bit into it. Chocolately heaven entered her mouth and quickly, her slice was gone. Unfortunately, she could hardly eat another bite; she was too stuffed from the dinner.

"I have something else for you. Don't worry, it wasn't that expensive!" said Draco, defensively holding his hands up. When he saw that Silwen was only smiling he asked, "Would you mind closing your eyes again?"

In response, she closed her eyes and felt his hands at her neck, undoing something. She opened her eyes a crack to which Draco whispered, "Not yet!" Then she realized what he was undoing. The locket. The one Voldemort had given her all those months ago. She had forgotten about it, never looking at it since that day, not wanting to use something the Dark Lord had given her.

"Ok."

Silwen opened her eyes and saw in his hand, a new locket. It was beautiful; oval shaped, silver as unicorn's blood, with a jade stone in the middle, it winked at her in the light of the large table candlesticks. She carefully clicked it open and stared longingly at the pictures. In one, her uncle and Lucie smiled, her uncle genuinely smiling, up at her, and on the other side, an empty space. From the old locket lying on the table, she took the photo of her parents, and placed it inside the new one. The picture of her parents seemed to mold to the new locket, much happier in its new home than its old one.

"In my opinion, the locket was the cherry on top."

"Do you want me to put it on you?"

Holding up her hair, she nodded, her green eyes alight and sparkling. Leaning forward, he attached the locket behind her neck. "It matched your eyes perfectly."

"Thank you, Draco. For the locket, for today, for everything," she said and embraced him once more.

"You have one more present. It's an anonymous one that arrived on my bedroom window this morning."

She pulled away from him, silently guessing who is was from, grinning a secret smile. He reached behind himself and pulled out a long, black, skinny box. On it were two notes attached that read, "_I love you Sweetie," _and,_ "Thanks for letting me use it. I don't need it anymore. Tell Draco he'll see his own soon. When he apologizes." _Snorting, she handed the second note to Draco. And then took the cover off, inhaling sharply. Inside lay a wand. A beautiful wand._ Her_ wand. 12.5 inches, willow, unicorn hair, unyeilding. Potter's fingerprints were still on it, she could see them in the flickering light. Potter must have given it to the 'anonymous' deliverer, who in turn dropped off on Draco's window.

To no one, she whispered, "Thank you." And smiled at Draco who smiled in return. He was simply happy to see her so at peace. She looked so beautiful, the orange aura of the candles glowing on her ivory skin, putting a small fire in her eyes. Eyes that once seemed dead or afraid of the smallest sound. Seeing her happy, knowing he was a big part in making her so was very possibly the best fact and feeling in the world.

And to have it all shatter, the antique kitchen clock started to chime eleven o'clock.

* * *

Author's second note: I know that Arthur's wife's name isn't spelled like that, but rather, "G_u_inevere". I just like how the "w" looks instead of "u" in the spelling, even though it sounds the same.

Also, for further reference about Silwen's wand returning, read my Dr. Who one-shot entitled, "Silwen's Guardian Angel."


	22. Embarrassing the Dark Lord

At the doors, Silwen whispered quickly, "Draco. If you can, you must send an anonymous letter to McGonagall at Hogwarts telling her all of what you know! I'm getting the feeling they're planning to attack Hogwarts when I saw Carrow's face in the fireplace. Voldemort hates Carrow and wouldn't let him in on such a confidential mission if he didn't have to. Please. Can you? For me?"

Draco's eyes narrowed as the last chime for eleven o'clock sounded. "No. If I inform McGonagall, he'll know it was me and kill you or my parents." He held her close to him and muttered, "I won't lose you. And I won't even _think_ about risking your life."

Stepping away from him, Silwen looked at him sadly. "Don't you understand? This war is more important than I am. More important than your parents. Are you willing to let the entire earth suffer because you won't give up crucial information? We could die any second here."

"Exactly. You could. But you aren't and you know that. The Dark Lord won't kill you, and as long as I do as he says, my parents live and vice versa."

"What happened to the Draco in the cottage, away from this mess? And your parents living free?"

A hollow laugh escaped Draco as clicking approached the doors' other side. "'Free?' None of us were free. My parents were buying supplies for him. I was in the cabin with an acquaintance of his...Spike. He's the one who brought me back to the manor! We've never left him. We've only messed up carrying out his plans."

Slumping against the doors, she stared, her eyes tearing up again. "Oh...Draco, I'm so sorry. I-"

Creak. Woosh. The doors swung open, and Silwen fell back. Instinctively, Draco tried to save her, but she had already been captured in surprisingly strong arms whiter than bones picked clean by vultures.

"My Lord," whispered Draco, bowing.

"Leave us," the Dark Lord smirked, dragging Silwen backwards and closing the doors with a kick.

Under the door came a soft whisper, "I love you."

"I love you, too. D-"

"Be quiet until I give you permission to speak!" he hissed. The arms clasped around her constricted even further, and she gasped. For someone over eighty, he still had a huge amount of strength. She struggled, fright giving her the force she needed to break free from his hold. Part of her wished to crawl under the table, and escape out the doors. But she didn't. She just stood there.

"Please, _please_, never do that again," she whimpered, her old terror returning. And then, she remembered her day. A glorious paradise. Quickly, she gained her composure.

"Some of my guests are...unhappy with your massages. Greyback was the most vehement, however, I fear that if I let him have you, you won't survive. But you will redo Spike's, Dr. Horrible's, and Mr. Cullen's massages."

Shivering, she nodded. "When?" she whispered, looking down.

"As soon as your hands are capable. How are they? Put them out. Let me inspect them."

Slowly, she brought her hands up, parallel to the floor, her fingers trembling.

Voldemort stepped toward her and took her hands in his, rubbing his thumb over them.

As if shocked, she jerked her head up and snatched her hands away.

"Put them back out and leave them until allow you to draw them back," he said smirking.

Her fingers returned to their position, but Voldemort merely looked at them. "Turn them over. Let me see your palms." When she showed him the perfectly healed skin, he sneered. "Well, it looks like that will be tonight. Once the other dismisses you, you will move on to the next one." Taking her hands, he returned to rubbing them, enjoying the pained look on her face. She murmured something inaudibly and backed into the table.

"What?"

"Please, please stop." Flashes of memories returned to her of his hands-cutting, clenching, hurting, always hurting-and she couldn't take it any longer. Her wand in her pocket was useless unless she had her fingers around it. Wand. That was a good thought. She concentrated on that as the Dark Lord chuckled coldly at her response.

"I have been informed that it is your birthday. I should have given you the l-" he broke off, staring at her neck, and then at what she was wearing. He let go of her, and she instantly dove under the table, emerging on the other side, dodging a Cruciatus Curse and running to the door. "You will not leave this room!" He shouted.

She skidded to a halt, shaking. He had noticed. Had noticed the shirt, muggle clothes, and the new locket. _Now, how much longer do I have?_ she thought. In her pocket, she clenched her wand. Could she cast a spell, or had he forbidden it? _Aguamenti!_ she nonverbally cast. Nothing. _Aguamenti!_ she cast again, not paying heed to her surroundings, completely absorbed by her wand. Again, nothing. _"Aguamenti!_" she whispered.

A hand deliberately collided with her head, another one wrapped its fingers around her hair, her head suspended. She shrieked in pain.

"What have you got in your pocket?" he spat, letting go of her. Dropping to the ground, she curled around her pocket. Wet was spreading. Knowing she had only moments to act, she whispered inaudibly, "A wand."

Crouching down beside her, he forced her to sit up. "What?" he demanded through clenched teeth, pinning her shoulders against the wall on the other side. "A wand." Quick as a whip, she lifted it and muttered the incantation combination Uncle Severus had drilled into her, "_Relashio!_" A sudden force flew him away from her and she got up. "_Stupefy! __Expelliarmus! Accio wand!_" _What am I doing? I can't just fire hexes at him...And I can't kill him. "Incarcerus!" _Cords wrapped themselves around Voldemort. It was quite rewarding seeing Voldemort trussed for a change. _Uncle Severus would have been proud._ She was very glad her uncle had made her practice those spells in quick continuity until they were perfect. Then she realized that once he was free...he'd murder her...or worse.

"What are you going to do now, little Snape? Do you think you have the bravery to avenge your uncle?"

Glaring at him, taunting him with his own wand, she walked over to him and said said, "I-I don't know. No."

"Then what is the purpose of this?"

Her voice laughed, full of hysteria. "None. It's a reflex."

"Get these ropes off now and hand me my wand, little Snape," he hissed, returning the glare.

She had never seen him so openly emotional. Yes, she had felt his glares and smirks, but never had they been written on his face. His mouth was contorted and pulled back into a demonic grimace, and his scorching eyes..._I'm an idiot..._ She held her wand out, muttered the counter curse for Incarcerus, and tossed him his wand.

"Perhaps there's more Slytherin in you then I give you credit for. ... _Crucio_!"

Screaming, Silwen dropped to the floor, wand rolling to a corner, only to be picked up by Voldemort. Pounds on the door echoed through the room, and a faint shout of, "Silwen!" But she didn't hear anything else than her own anguished screams. For fifteen minutes, Voldemort held her under the curse.

_Foolish girl. As if I wouldn't punish her. Punishments don't seem to work with her._ _And death is what she wants. _Always she managed to infuriate him. More than Potter's escapes ever did. What would it take to break her spirit once and for all? Draco he might need still. He couldn't murder him. And simply punishing him wouldn't work either. A Dementor, he thought, surely, would have broken her, or her uncle's and elf's deaths! However, she still fought him in sporadic spurts. It was never consistent with her. Her fear mixed with hate and a silly loyalty to help Potter made her too unpredictable. He'd have to ask her. Force the answer from her lips with a simple question. He smirked to himself. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner.

Voldemort's musings done, he lifted the curse. "That will have to do...for now."

Beneath his feet, the floorboards shook all the way to where he was standing. The girl hadn't shaken so badly ever since the Dementor. Perhaps another taste of a Dementor's kiss, or more of the Cruciatus. I will have to see what her answer is. He decided to start with the easier questions.

"Where do your clothes come from?"

"N-narcissa g-gave th-them to me...S-she laid them out on my bed."

The Dark Lord waved his wand, and Silwen felt her body lift and sink onto the mahogany table. Delicately, his nails scraped the table's surface.

"Th-that's mahogany!" she whimpered, hating the scratching sound as it neared her face.

"Where does the locket come from? Where is the old one?"

Desperately, she tried to move as his nails softly fondled with her hair. "D-Draco. The o-other one is-is on the kitchen table unless D-Draco moved it." Sliding a hand under her neck, he unclasped the locket and opened it, smirking at the shudders emitted from her. Opening it, he found the new picture and the old one. He Summoned the old locket and opened that. The picture of her parents were still inside. Feigning love, he uncreased it and put it in the new locket, closed the new locket, and put it around her neck once more.

"How will I break your little spirit of rebellion?" he murmured in her ear, toying again with her hair.

She stiffened as if she'd been hexed by a Body-bind. "I-If...If Potter dies."

Leaning in closer, he asked, "Not Draco?"

"N-no...I-it's not Draco who can kill you," she whispered, closing her eyes so she didn't have to look at him.

"What else?"

"I-if you n-never let..." and she simply mouthed the words too quickly for him to get his answer.

"Speak normally, little Snape. What else? Tell me everything."

Tucking her knees in, she said clearly, "If you never physically let go of me. If one of your Death Eaters or 'guests' touches me for the rest of my life. If you kill Draco and his parents on top of that. Doing that or even torturing them alone won't 'tame' me." Her eyes became emerald ponds with a thin layer of ice holding the water inside. Yet she was forbidden from crying in front of him. A muted laugh echoed through the room.

"Get of the table."

Silwen obeyed, and knowing she couldn't stand, leaned on the table for support.

"Can you stand?" He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it. See the fear grow.

"No."

Elegantly, Voldemort put an arm around her back and the other under her knees and picked her up. However, he was shocked to see her faint. Scrutinizing her, he realized why mortals would find her attractive. Why he saw her as his. His possession, to use as he pleased. Ivory, flawless skin, lips redder than anger, thick, lustrous obsidian hair in waves, and a thin body. Perhaps too thin, he mused. He'd allowed her little to eat, and the hunger was eating away her shape into a stick. Carrying her, he could feel her ribcage easily.

Her eyes fluttered, saw his face and promptly shut. Eyes more naive than a child's eyes. Severus must have kept her away from everything. "I am taking you to Mr. Spike's room. You will do whatever he says. After Spike, you will go to Dr. Horrible's room, and then finish with Mr. Cullen." Silwen nodded, lying limply in his arms.

Once at the door, Voldemort let her out of his arms but maintained a grip on her forearm to keep her standing. Above his head, he conjured a potion, uncorked it, ordered her to tilt her head back and open her mouth. When she complied, he poured the contents down her throat and told her to swallow. Gagging, she gulped for air and swallowed, coughing.

"It was only a-"

"Strength potion," she finished for him.

Voldemort's eyes flared and he knocked, alerting Spike of her arrival. "You will behave yourself with him!" he hissed when the door opened.


	23. Thicker than Blood

**Author's note: **Happy Fourth of July! One thing. Yes, the Doctor may sound British, but Captain Jack Harkness is American. Sorry for the temporary lull! My brother is leaving tomorrow to serve an LDS mission in France for two years and everything's been really hectic making sure he's happy and has everything he needs...

This one's shorter than my usual ones...I don't know how I feel about it...I feel like it doesn't go anywhere...But here it is...I don't really like how I have Angelus in this chapter...Angelus is difficult for me to pretend to be...Anyone, review and tell me what you think about him.

Random history note: Silwen and Draco have known each other since they were five. Being good friends with the Malfoy family, Severus Snape was often invited over to the manor for dinners, and he brought Silwen along with him. Draco and Silwen met in Diagon Alley, just after Silwen had bought her wand. Naturally, Draco was a showing-off little prick who Silwen took an immediate dislike to.

* * *

Ignoring Silwen, Spike spoke to Voldemort. "How long?"

"Until you are satisfied, Mr. William," responded the Dark Lord smoothly, letting go of her. For a second, Voldemort looked at her, pleased with his little plan. Silwen had fallen, into Spike who deftly caught her in his arms. But it wasn't that. It was her face. And what his Legilimency skills told him. Shock was splattered across her face as she looked at Voldemort.

"When you no longer want her, take her to Dr. Horrible's room, two doors down from yours." With a gloating glare at Silwen, Voldemort left them there in the doorway. Distantly, Silwen realized what was going to happen now. But her mind was lost...Lost in memories that Voldemort had mixed in with the potion. Memories that the Dementor had stolen. She had them back. He had given them back. Why, she wanted to know.

Silwen's shock turned into fear. Attempting to procrastinate her new orders, she let her knees give in. Spike dragged her across the floor, then kicked her out of the memories.

"Spike, I want someone to play with," said Drusilla walking over to Spike and putting a hand around his shoulder.

"I'd like to ask her a couple questions," came an unfamiliar voice in the shadows. From them emerged Angelus, appraising Silwen. "You can massage Spike as you talk to me. Spike, sit."

"The Master didn't put you in charge," snapped Spike, nonetheless sitting down and taking off his trench coat.

"Optimum results are given when I have full range of your back," said Silwen at Spike's side.

"Fine." Getting up off the chair, he went to a thick carpet and laid down on his stomach, taking off his shirt. "I'm ready. Go on, love," he goaded.

Silwen blushed, to the chuckles of the other two vampires, as she shakily began prodding Spike's back. It was well-shaped, she noticed, her face getting redder.

"It's not like you haven't seen someone shirtless before..." he said.

Finding a new knot, she began there, remaining silent for a few minutes. Spike didn't need to know that he was wrong, and that his implication was wrong as well. "Sir, you wanted to ask me something?" she said to Angelus.

Taking a seat in a chair close to where Spike was lying, he asked, "What do you know of Voldemort's plans?"

Her hands pausing on a moment, she whispered, "Nothing. Except for the fact that he's planning to start with Hogwarts as a first destruction. Voldemort tells me nothing special."

"The bird sings to too many listeners and doesn't keep her secrets, naughty bird," said Drusilla, sitting right behind Silwen, whose back stiffened as Drusilla began to take her hair and sniff it. Silwen forced herself not to react, concentrating on Spike's back.

"Watch it!" growled Spike when Silwen found a particularly painful spot. He sat up, put his shirt on, then put his hands out. "Switch to my hands, pet." With obedient angst, the little bird started on Spike's hands, pretending to be immersed in the tendons and muscles so as not to meet Spike's smirking stare.

Angelus watched with amusement. "Dru, what can you tell me about our bird?"

Smiling and looking around Silwen's shoulder, she replied, "Little bird has magic blood, she does."

Scrutinizing her, he asked quietly to Silwen, "Do you know what she means?"

Uncomfortable under the stares of all three vampires, she nodded. "Perhaps Spike would like to enlighten you. He experienced it ... twice." Spike's hand tore from her grip and slapped her across the face, making her fall into Drusilla's white laced lap. Looking at her like she was a roasted rabbit, Drusilla smiled a long, sharp smile. Silwen shuddered and sat up, scooting out of her and his reach.

"What does she mean Spike?" demanded Angel.

"Last visit in this house, I played with the girl, and tasted her blood-" Spike broke off, standing up furiously to Angel's accusing eyes. "I was hungry!"

"Get on with it."

"And after a sip or two, I stopped...The girl asked me a couple questions, and I gave her the answers."

"You answered her truthfully?" Angel asked. Spike nodded.

"I didn't have a choice, mate," he said, calming down and dropping to the floor. "You aren't finished yet," he whispered to Silwen, holding out his hand again. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she took it and started where she left off, now trying to placate him.

"How?" This question was directed at the human. Had she found a way to inject her blood with a truth serum? Was she, a silly teenager, a threat to them? Soon after Spike had returned from his second trip, rebellions had erupted all over the country. And they were gaining ground quickly. Even Snow was concerned about the speed and success. Was the girl the cause of it? He gripped one of her arms. "_How_?" he repeated, his brown eyes scalding.

Her body tensing everywhere save her other hand, Silwen answered, "I have Veritaserum in every drop of my blood, Sir. I got him angry and thirsty enough...then put some inside a Firewhiskey the second time and got what information I could from him and sent it to either the United States or to the Order of the Phoenix in England." Spike started at a sudden pressure in his hands then smirked as the pressure instantly retreated when his fingers bit down on hers, however he motioned for her to continue. And she did.

"I want a demonstration. Show me what effect your blood has," Angelus said, releasing her.

"Not only her blood, Angel," said Spike snidely. "She can't lie when you ask her a question."

Angelus laughed, staring incredulously at Silwen. "Who did you inform in the States?"

"Mr. Rupert Giles."

Standing, he walked over to Silwen and sat on the other side of her, observing her small shivers. She was cornered by three vampires who hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. It was normal to be frightened. _But_, he thought, _it usually didn't look so...adorable. She was quite cute when scared. Perhaps the Master would like her as a present. And if her blood works.._.Perhaps he could negotiate with Voldemort to let Silwen donate some of her blood as a gift to the Master.

"Dru, do you want to taste?" he said, smiling genially at Silwen who rapidly tried to escape, only to be held there by Spike's hand.

"Ooohh, a special treat!" she responded, bending down, caressing Silwen's neck, removing any strands of hair futilely trying to block her. Drusilla bit Silwen avidly. Dozens of seconds passed, the girl growing fainter as her blood was sipped away. And like a hero, Spike drew Dru off of her. She fell to the ground, ignored.

Smacking and licking her lips, Drusilla's eyes emptied.

"I'm going to ask her, Angel," said Spike and immediately turned back to Drusilla. "Who has hurt you the most? Angel or me?"

"Angel."

"Who do you love most?"

"You."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"Yes."

Spike glared at Angel and punched him in the face. Angel merely grinned at Spike and looked over at Drusilla, saying, "Care to help me up, Dru?"

She nodded, the vacancy gone, took his hand, and pulled him up.

"I'm finished with her," snarled Spike. With his boot, he pushed her along the floor, out of the room, down the hall, and kicked Dr. Horrible's door, then stomped off outside, cursing. Randomly, he thought, _My hands feel much better now_. He turned to fake a thank you, but she was gone.


	24. Everyone's a Hero in their Own Way!

**_A/N:_**

A very special thank you who reviewed! I loved reading your comments! :D I get so excited!

So this one is rather short. But it covers things. It rolls quickly as most of it is dialog. If any of you haven't seen "Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog", it is wonderfully hilarious, and I love it, and is only 47min. long, so if you have time to waste, watching is a delightful idea. Dr. Horrible is from that musical (obviously). This story takes place after the musical has ended, and he is in the Evil League of Evil.

* * *

Thump. Creak. Opening the door, finding Silwen on the floor in front of it, he gasped, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to an armchair inside his room.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worriedly. Nodding, Silwen moved around into a normal position. Taking several deep breaths, she calmed herself down and looked around, amazed. Large metal tables stood awkwardly in Dr. Horrible's room. On top of them stood or hung over were glass and other metal instruments. The tables were messy with all sorts of tiny knick-knacks covering them and spilling off to the ground, which, too was comfortably messy. The room reminded her of her uncle's private study, except he had more wooden and stone instruments. Not to mention, everything was spotless and in its place.

"What is all of this?" she asked in wonder, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"They're, um, my instruments...I'm here to adapt show the Evil League of Evil's contraband arsenal."

"But they're muggle-made. How are they going to work against wizards...especially at Hogwarts."

Taking his black goggles off, he looked at her. "A few wizards have been helping me adapt them."

Mesmerized, Silwen didn't notice his stare. This display was...beyond anything. Like seeing a jungle for the first time.

"So...I wanted to talk to you," began Dr. Horrible, taking a seat in front of her. Silwen's trance broke and she faced him, unsure.

"About...?" she led off in a question.

"I don't want my inventions to kill people. I-I want to...sabotage this war."

Silwen's eyes narrowed. "You can't tell me anymore. Please. If the Dark Lord finds out I know something, he'll force the answer from me and I won't be able to stop him do it. Dr. Horrible, I'm sorry. I can't help you. I want to, I do. But I can't. It's too dangerous for your plan."

Surprise spread across Dr. Horrible's face. "Why? Oh, and Billy is my name."

"I-I can't lie to anyone," she said looking down. "I promised the Dark Lord I'd be his servant until his death, and I cannot break that promise. If the Dark Lord hears of anything against his plans and finds out that I have something to do with it, he'll use me in any way possible to stop it. However, now that I know this, I might be able to help you out once." Putting her hands in her pocket, she drew out her wand and whispered, "_Accio Charm Volume!_"

A whooshing sound sped through the hall, something banged the door open, and fell onto Silwen's lap.

"What's that?" asked Billy curiously, looking at the thick volume on her lap.

"It's a charms book. What you need is a charm to make everything non-lethal but still make it look lethal." Opening the book, she did a sharp intake of breath. Under the sticker of "Ex Libris," was the name Severus Snape. What was his book doing here? He had most likely brought it for a meeting to refer to. She thumbed through the pages until she found the Protection Spells chapter. And...nothing. However, two people she knew could sort this problem out. Two inventors extraordinaire.

"Anything?" asked Billy desperately in his red lab coat, leaning forward.

"No...But try to contact...Fred and George Weasley. I think they'd be able to help you...Contact Minerva McGonagall first at Hogwarts. She'll help you get to them safely."

Smile cracking his lips, he said, "Thanks, Silwen. You can leave if you want...But I'd have to take you to the other vampire's room."

"Er, Billy, I was wondering if you could help me. If you had the time. See, I'm curious about the two different vampire races here, Cullen and Spike's group. Could you see if you could figure anything out?"

"The weapons are actually done. They just need to be modified. And then re-modified. So, yes, I can help you. Do you have anything from them? Hair, skin-blood would get the best results, but hair is also good."

Silwen looked on her shoulder near her bite, thankful to see it closed and dry. A long strand of hair several shades lighter than hers laid on it. "I have a strand of Drusilla's hair." Taking it off her, she handed it over to him and dropped it into his thick, black, rubber gloves.

"Good. I'll start on it soon."

Standing, she smiled at him and said softly, "I know it hurts to lose someone you love. It feels like you can't go on anymore, and all you want to have is-is them. ... Keep your chin up, Billy. Tomorrow is a brand new day." Small tears formed in the corner of his blue eyes and he nodded. Timidly, she put a hand on his shoulder and lightly squeezed, a tear escaping out of her own eyes. "Good luck, Billy."

"Good luck with the other vampire."

Silwen nodded and walked over to the door, an odd feeling inside her that wouldn't let her stop smiling. That vanished when she stepped out of the door and bumped into her last duty.

"Good morning", he murmured, holding her to him for a few seconds, chuckling at her instinctive struggles, brushing the tear off her cheek.


	25. Blood Type

**_A/N:_**

A very happy birthday to Ringo Star! Please, take a few moments in silence to remember this brilliant musician..._  
_

...

So...Edward gets alone time with Silwen...Nothing risque happens. Not even remotely. But don't worry. I'm planning something epic.

A very special thank you to BlueNeutrino who has reviewed almost all of my chapters! Thank you to LuciusBelyakov, Asase, QueenofNobodies, lilgenious, and Lightaqua! Such nice things to say! You've made me so happy! :3 Thank you to BlueNeutrino and to LuciusBelyakov for adding my story to your favorites! Thank you to BlueNeutrino, k9angel, Lightaqua for adding my story to your alerts! You all are stupendus and spectacular and I love you! And to whoever has seen and read my story...and stuck with it that I don't know of! I'm very flattered, and I hope you like the final chapters!

So, I hope you enjoy this chapter...

* * *

"Step into my office," he said, stepping away from Silwen and taking her hand in his.

"You have an office?" she asked bewildered.

Edward scoffed and muttered, "It's part of a song." His frigid hand tightened and he began to walk forward, pulling Silwen behind. Reaching a door, he opened it and pushed her inside. Too quickly for her to see, he moved toward her and then walked over to a couch, holding her wand in his fingers, his eyes simmering in a smirk. Today they were a dark obsidian.

_ He hasn't fed recently_, she thought, bringing Edward's smirk down to a tepid scowl. "How is your back?" she asked innocently. The vampire's scowl became more pronounced. He could read her mind. What if she practiced Occlumency?

"That won't stop me," chuckled Edward, lounging on the soft leather. "I'd appreciate it if you could come and sit beside me," he said hypnotically, his eyes concentrating on hers. Those eyes set her on edge, more terrifying, almost, than the Dark Lord's ruby ones. She took one step forward and stopped.

"Why? You can hear me perfectly fine from over here."

"Please come here, Miss Snape, or I will break your wand." The cordiality of his tone didn't match the annoyance in his eyes.

"I'm fine here, thank you," she replied, surprised at the calm in her voice. "I'll simply tell the Dark Lord you've ruined my wand. He won't be amused."

"I'll come and get you," he threatened, his eyes hardening into a black glaze.

"If you tell me why you wanted to see me, I'll go on my own. I'm assuming it wasn't the massage. I fixed your slight limp, I'm sure you noticed." However, she remained stationary. She was proud and pleased with the cold and polite manner that she addressed Cullen with. Even more pleased when she got him to scowl.

He stood, then suddenly he was right in front of her, holding her in his arms. Not even a second later, she found herself on the couch on his left side, clutched to him by his arm, harder and colder than frozen marble. _Not at all like the other vampires._ Trying to get out of his hold, she wriggled, only to give Cullen his crooked smirk back. She settled then to lean away from him and sit primly on the edge so her short legs could reach the ground.

"Clever witch. You are correct. I do not require another _massage_. I wanted to ask you something," he said lightly. Silwen turned to him, sitting cross-legged with her back to the air.

"You are Voldemort's slave-girl yet you clearly want to be released. Why don't you escape?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears, but she wouldn't allow herself to cry in front of him. "I can't. I promised I'd do whatever he said. And he told me that I can't exit the manor unless accompanied by himself or a Death Eater." To her surprise, he didn't mock. His eyes glared and his grip around her tightened, pulling her into the couch. "Did I say something? ... I'm supposed to be 'behaving'," she whispered.

"This just complicates...things," he answered, glaring into the sofa across from theirs.

_He's so moody!_ Any girl dating him would be on an emotional roller-coaster with him. _Even if you are gorgeous, I prefer someone with more stable emotions._ His arm drew her in closer, vindictively smirking at her discomfort. _Wait...complicates what, exactly, Mr. Cullen? Do I have something to do with you being here?_ His stared at her, abruptly speculating something.

"I'm under orders from the vampires I'm representing in this meeting. I was to attend the gathering, then bring you to them after it was finished. We were to go alone...However, if you cannot leave without being with a Death Eater..." His free arm reached over to caress her cheek. Stunned by the news, Silwen didn't react.

"Who?" she whispered into her lap.

Bitterly, the vampire chuckled, still stroking her, his fingers moving down to her neck. "Acquaintances in Italy. Somehow, they heard about you. About the anomaly of your blood...And as for your last question, that's private."

"Why do they want my blood? Can't they...bargain with the Dark Lord for a truth serum and just mix that with someone else's blood?" she asked, shivering from the cold radiating off him, and from the fingers tapping a vulnerable part of her neck. _Stop it._

Stopping the taps, he dropped his hand and ran it through his rusty-chocolate brown mixed hair in irritation. "They want your blood to force answers out of any new visitors. And Voldemort has declined their generous offer of gold in exchange for your blood. And no, your suggestion would arise the suspicions of their guests." He thrummed his fingers on his thigh.

"I regret that I can't leave," she said choosing her words cautiously, "But, I would much like to be excused, Mr. Cullen so I can rest." Once more, she tried to disentangle herself from his arm, but it was no use, and only caused him to chuckle.

"If your boyfriend went with us, then my problems are solved. And-" he cut off suddenly, and looked away, his eyes suddenly soft. Silwen hummed and thought of the lyrics to "Fascination" in her head and quickly picked a hair off of his shirt and tucked it away in a pocket.

"And what?"

"I could save her. Bella," he whispered, still soft-eyed. "They took her from me. I was to bring you to them and they'd let me have her back. So, we really need your boyfriend to come with us."

"I don't think Draco would come with us."

"If I threatened him with your life, I'm sure he'd be more willing," snapped Edward, standing up with her in his arms. Smirking he said, "He's right outsi-"

Click. The doors opened. Indeed, Draco was standing there, but he wasn't alone. Beside him stood the Master.

"Look Tick-Tock, I'm busy. Come back in an hour," said Cullen, perturbed by the new arrivals.

The Master froze then said, "No. It's my turn with the girl. Voldemort sent the boy to tell me so. You," he said, turning to smirk at Draco, "can leave now."

Silwen saw her chance; if Draco left right now before he knew what Cullen was up to, then he wouldn't be persuaded to accompany Cullen...and she would be unable to leave.

"Draco go and get...The Dark Lord." Draco, the wonderful boy, turned and ran before Edward could say anything, as he was running, Silwen cut off Edward's attempts at speech and shouted, "Tell the Dark Lord Edward is going to take me to the Vulturi." She couldn't believe it. She was asking Draco to fetch..._him_ so Voldemort could...save her from vampires. She closed her eyes and felt Cullen's arms let go of her. Gratefully, she crashed onto the floor, happy to finally be out of his arms.

"Brat," growled Edward, his face fixed on the Master's face, which was contorted into rage. Obviously, Tick-Tock didn't like his nick-name.

"Don't call me that!" he screeched, stepping inside Edward's room, "And give me my toy!"

"'Tick-Tock' is the name Madam Lestrange assigned you, and I have chosen to follow her lead. About the girl, I need her for a bit longer," replied Edward coolly, "Take another step closer and I'll step on her and break every bone inside her."

_Tick-Tock...quite suitable._ Rolling away, Silwen moved out of Edward's stepping range, but he only moved closer to her and acutally put his shoes on her back, forcing her to lie on her stomach. _Git. Tick-Tock has better manners than you do_. The shoe pressed harder. Tick-Tock stopped walking and pulled out some sort of muggle weapon.

"That's not going to work in the Manor," groaned Silwen. Both of the men ignored her, glowering at each other in livid silence. "Just breathe," she whispered to the floor which was groaning under the pressure. Looking at the floor, she realized how old it was, covered in grooves and scars, a beautiful dark cherry wood. She felt badly that it had to be walked on by people like Cullen and Tick-Tock. Soon, Draco would come, and at least, she'd be able to stand up.


	26. Irony

Author's Note:

A very happy birthday to Woody Guthrie!

Sorry about the lapse! My mother was convinced that I was addicted to fanfiction, which may or may not have been the case so I had to lay low for a bit. But for a few hours, I'm back! :) And to many of you, a very very happy UNbirthday, with love from the Mad Hatter and the March Hare!

* * *

"You're making this more difficult than it needs to be. Come back tomorrow and I'll let you have the girl," said Edward waspishly.

"Whatever," said Tick-Tock flippantly.

"What do you want with her?" asked Edward through clenched teeth. _Oh very clever, Cullen. Get Tick-Tock to think of his answer._ _I'd be happy if you regurgitated it out loud for me._ To Silwen's surprise, Edward nodded faintly and lessened the pressure of his foot, but not enough for her to escape.

"Because I'd tell a blood-sucking parasite my secret plans."

Grinning victoriously, Edward said, "You're going to play with her? Force her to love you, to idolize you as you conquer muggle England and the rest of the muggle world with your Archangel plan?"

Blanching, the Master stood there. "You-you read my mind. Freak!"

_Thank you, Mr. Cullen._ Silwen made a mental note to tell the Doctor when she saw him again...Or since this was out of the meeting information, perhaps she could send him something.

"You're hearing drums in your head-oh yes I can hear them banging in my head whenever you're near me-and you're calling _me_ a freak?" Replied Edward sarcastically, lifting his foot up, but snatching Silwen into a hostage hold, pinning her arms to her side. _Why did you do that?...Oh. I see._

Voldemort and Draco had arrived. "Mr. Cullen, I let you borrow my slave and I come back to see her stepped on and on the floor? My hospitality has its limits," said Voldemort smoothly, his eyes flashing in irritation. Draco stared at her, standing right beside Voldemort.

"I apologize, sir. The girl was misbehaving."

"I understand. Now, if I could have her back, I need her for a moment."

The arms holding her tightened. "Sorry, but that's not possible, Lord Voldemort," said Edward. "I need her for a bit longer. And perhaps if you'll allow it, to travel with me for a week to Italy."

"My slave isn't leaving this manor with you, vampire!" snarled Voldemort. Edward merely scoffed, slackening his grip on Silwen.

Slowly, the girl moved her hand, thinking of a random song's lyrics to keep Edward unaware of what she was doing. Her hand found his pocket, his wand sticking out of it. Carefully, she took the wand out and held it. "_Relashio_." Hands flying off her, he was flung to the other side of the room, shouting in surprise. "_Incarcerus._" To Edward's disbelief, cords shot around him-cords that didn't break when he strained against them.

"Well done," he said in a biting tone, his obsidian eyes dark with anger and humiliation.

Apologetically, Silwen replied, "I am sorry, Mr. Cullen. But you wouldn't have let go of me if I hadn't hexed you off." She turned to face Voldemort, Draco, and Tick-Tock. "Y-you needed me, my Lord?" she asked, her voice quavering.

"I want you to clean up the Dining Hall. It was left in a mess after today's meeting. You aren't leaving the room until it is pristine or sparkling," hissed Voldemort, smirking. "Master Time Lord, you will have to wait until tomorrow to spend time with her unless you want to watch her clean."

Licking his lips, Tick-Tock said, "I'd love to watch her clean."

From the back of the room, Edward gave a muffled shout; he was not going to be forgotten. "_Liberacorpus,_" said the Dark Lord softly. "Mr. Cullen, you are dismissed from the manor. Draco, escort him out."

"That's not necessary," said Edward with repressed anger and defeat, walking to the doors.

"Wait," whispered Silwen. Pityingly, she looked at Cullen as he passed her. "_Accio vial_." A vial came swishing through the air and landed neatly into her palm. Finding a shard of a broken lamp on the ground, she picked it up and delicately cut her wrist. She held it over the vial and let the blood drop into it. When it was full, she placed a cork on it and whispered, "_Geminio_." Instantly, another vial exactly like the other one appeared in her hand. "Here. Set her free with these and send your friends my regards," she murmured as she handed the vials and his wand to a very shocked Edward.

"Thank you for your compassion," he said, his eyes softening into a calm, nocturnal sea. Looking at Voldemort disdainfully he said, "I don't need assistance leaving now. ... I have almost what I came for." And in a flash, Cullen was gone.

Voldemort strode over to Silwen and wrapped his fingers around her forearm. Wincing from the pressure, she stumbled as he started to drag her forward. "Little fool," he crooned in he ear, "saving a different damsel because you can't save yourself." He brushed past Draco, demanded that he stay out of the Dining Hall for the time being, and whisked Silwen away to their destination, the Master following eagerly behind them.

"Under no circumstance will you leave until this room is spotless. Then you will use your wand to contact me and I shall escort you to your quarters," murmured Voldemort, his other hand stroking her hair as he opened the doors and pushed her through them. She stumbled, only to be caught by the Master's stabilizing hands. The Dark Lord handed her her wand and and left. "Do not cast a single spell to defend yourself from the Master," he said as a final order before the Master thanked him and shut the doors, both of them smirking at Silwen's frightened shudders.


	27. Cinderella

Author's Question without a cause:

If Twilight vampires can run hundreds times faster than cars, why do they take Bella to safety in cars instead of carrying her in their arms or on their backs? ... Why do the Cullens use cars so much? I don't understand this...Yes, to keep their cover, but they seem to use cars much more than they theoretically should...

* * *

Tick-Tock let go of her and trailed over to close the doors. Silwen dashed to the opposite end of the room and muttured, "_Messagum Patronum_," suddenly, a white dove emerged out of her wand and she went on with her message, "The Doctor, Time Lord. Master is using Arkangel to take control. End Message."

"NO!" shouted the Master, running to Silwen when he saw what she was doing. But it was too late for him to stop it. "That wasn't considerate of you," he said smacking her smartly across the face.

Ignoring him, Silwen cleaned, magicking dirty dishes, silverware and cups into the kitchen, Summoning and charming brooms, rags, and mops to sweep, scrub and mop the floor by themselves. It had always been fun to help Lucie with the cleaning when she was younger, even though Lucie made her help by doing things by hand, scrubbing tirelessly at the floor or at dishes with particularly nasty spots. "Things come out better by hand," Lucie said often. Silwen led a tear off her cheek and decided to do the table by hand with an unmagicked cloth she had found. She brushed off dust and dirt-anything that wasn't stuck to the table-onto the floor, earning an irritated swish from the broom, and scrubbed hard, scrutinizing for any remaining spots. He watched in amazement as she exterminated every speck of dirt, healed every miniscule break of perfection, seemingly without tiring. Idly, he thought,_ she'd be wonderful to have around to clean up my messes._

"Cinderelly, Cinderelly," chanted the Master from a chair he was lounging in. "Why are you doing the table by hand?"

Talking loudly to the table, she responded, "It looks better when it's done by hand."

Irritated at being ignored, the Master stood and walked over the wet and once shining floor to Silwen, creating smirking footprints for the mop to clean up. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a bottle of ink. "I'll pour this all over the table and floor unless you promise to accompany me to my victory after this...Hogwarts war. I promise to feed you." By now, he was standing over her, a hand on the table covering a large stain.

Shuddering, yet managing a laugh she said, "You're threatening to pour ink on a table if I don't-"

"Fine!" cut the Master, turning the bottle upside-down. Liquid blue ink went all over the table, dripping onto the chairs. Silwen sighed and said, "Scourgify!" Instantly, all the ink disappeared as well as all of the stains and grime. _So much for doing it by hand._ Glaring, he grabbed hold of her wrists, enjoying the fear that flooded her face.

"I have to finish this. Let me go," she whispered, not looking at him. A hand crept to her chin and held her face up. Silwen closed her eyes, defying the eyes that danced with cruelty.

"Promise me, little Silwen." Her panicked foot stomping on his, she scrambled to the opposite end of the table and began inspecting the wood for anything. Anything at all to do something to to get her mind off him. She found a chair with a broken leg. Sitting on the floor, she murmured, "_Reparo_." _I might as well mend the other chairs in the room. Maybe even throw them at Tick-Tock if he gets close._ She didn't notice the Master creep behind her until she found his fingers covering her eyes. Stiffening, she nonverbally Summoned a new chair and fixed that one as well, concentrating on the chair, feeling it over with her hands.

"I could be kind to you," he breathed, his cold words freezing her in her position. "You could have anything you want if you lived with me." _If only the Doctor could see me toying with one of his little human_ pets, he mused. A chuckle burst of him, making Silwen jump. Both hands left her face, one on her shoulder turning her to face him, the other diving into his pocket and pulling out a muggle device with lots of buttons and something that looked like a small telescope. "This is what humans in call a 'video recorder.' I'm going to use it and film our little...soiree to bait the Doctor. A friend of mine gave me this idea when I came to Earth several years ago. His name was James," he said, turning the thing on. On top, a little red light went off. "It's recording you, Silly. The glass lens you see-that's where you want to look so the Doctor can watch you as if you were looking right at him."

Shaking, she stood up and walked to the next chair, relieved to find the Master stay where he was, video recorder in hand. "I underestimated him, Doctor. Don't you do the same," she said clearly as she repaired the next few chairs. She was hoping to provoke the Master into flinging the thing to the ground and breaking it, but the Master was calm.

"Now Silly, I want you to make this camera indestructible with a little spell. If you don't do it, I'll kiss you." Perfect. The expression on her face was...priceless. Eyes dilated in fear, mouth tightly locked, fingers clenching their little stick, and her whole body petrified. This would have the Doctor angry. "I'm waiting." Inaudibly, Silwen's lips moved and something shot from her wand, hitting the recorder. The device flashed then returned to normal.

"It's done," she said and returned to mending the antique chairs, and nicks in the table.

"Now enchant it to hover beside me and focus only on you. Or-" Silwen cut him off with a couple spells before he could finish his threat. Feverishly, she finished the table and chairs-looking now as if they had been bought hours ago-and charmed the floor to get rid of new dirt as well as magicking on protective polish all over it. After a second thought, she did the same to the beautiful table and chairs. Now the only things left were the walls, ceiling, and chandelier that floated over the table.

"Why are you so obedient to Voldy?" asked the Master, approaching her, checking to see that the camera was still recording and was hovering beside him.

"I have no choice." Bam. Silwen blasted decades of smudge and sleaze off the walls, her fear getting the better of her as she heard his footsteps draw near. But the walls suffered no damage.

"What do you mean?" He asked casually, stepping beside her, putting an arm around her waist. Quickly, she fled out of it and ran to somewhere safer, whispering something. He smirked.

Carefully, she transported the chandelier down and cleaned it crystal by crystal while the Master watched from a small distance, repeating his question.

"I promised to be obedient to him," she said tensing.

"Do you always keep your promises?" he asked, a smile sitting on his lips like a proud, fat child. The Master zoomed the camera in, focusing on her lips.

"Y-yes."

A small light went off inside the Master's mind. "How do you feel about it? Not being able to break a promise?"

"With my uncle, it was fine. He-he never made me promise anything except for once...Sometimes, I wish I had a choice. But I don't... Just like my-" but she didn't say any more, and shot a silent, gentle cleaning spell at the ceiling.

"Just like your what?" His voice quivered with anticipation, he stopped walking and bent down next to Silwen, letting the camera zoom out a little bit so both of them were in view.

"Just like my telling the truth."

A cackle left the Master's lips, echoing around the room. "Can you lie, Silly?" he whispered in her ear. Delicately, he took the cleaned chandelier from her and put it on the table, waiting for her answer. It lifted itself up automatically and regained its normal location.

"No."

Cackling again, he said to the camera, "So, Silly, what else do you want to say to the Doctor? Do you want him to come running and protect you from the nasty evil?"

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for talking to me, for letting me talk to know your friends. You were so kind, like how a doctor should be. I won't ever forget it. No, don't come. Don't rise to the Master's bai-"

The Master's face contorted into rage, and he sprang at her, shoving her into the wall, wrapping his hands around her throat, gloating when she started to choke. "That's enough, I think," he murmured, fingers loosening so she could breathe again. She began to babble, but he raised a finger to her lips and murmured, "Sshhh." She did as she was told, tears starting to slip out of her eyes. "Don't move for a minute, Silly. I want to try something," he whispered, inches away from her ashen face. His hands left her mouth and throat and moved to her arms, pinning them to the wall like unbreakable chains.

Leaning in closer, he stared at Silwen, who turned her face so her cheek felt his over-heated breath. He moved his head so their lips were parallel once more, and kissed her lightly. What he wasn't prepared for was the girl's hysteria that followed. Shrieking, she brought her knee up high, kicking him in the stomach. He fell backwards, crashing into the table, letting her go.

Silwen ran to the doors, yanked them open, dashed out to the hallway, and slammed the doors shut, hyperventilating. Sinking to her knees, she realized that she was able to get out of the room. That meant that the Dining Hall was completely finished and she was free to leave. Shaking, she tried to get the horrible memory out of her head, but her mind kept on replaying it over and over. Tears flowed freely now and she bent over her knees, looking like she was praying.

"What is going on?" hissed a voice swiftly approaching. For a second time that day, that voice's meant that some of her torment had come to an end.

"You-I-the D-dining R-room is fini-ished. P-please, I-i pray you, let me go to my quarters," she whispered, immediately quenching her tears. She started to stand, trembling, but her knees wobbled so much that she gripped the door handles for support and inadvertently opened the doors, falling to the ground once more. Strong arms caught her from behind. "I sent the tape via cell phone and future muggle technology," he whispered in her ear, "One of his friends was kind enough to give me his number." A jolt of terror ran through her and she leapt out of them, cowering behind Voldemort.

"What happened, Time Lord?" spat Voldemort. "What did you do to her?" The Master just smirked and said nothing, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "If she's ruined, I will make sure your plan fails, mark my words."

Laughing, the Master said, "She's not ruined, only a little afraid of a small kiss." With that, he stalked off, whistling the tune of Scarborough Fair.

Voldemort whipped around to face Silwen. She'd never been as hysterical as this before. If the Master had broken her, he would pay dearly for it. "Come little Snape, it is time you rest for the last few hours of the night. In the morning, we will go to the meeting and you will stand behind me, not listening to what we are saying. Perhaps I'll have wax put in your ears."

At his side, Silwen nodded. They walked the rest of the way in silence, Voldemort making sure they didn't touch. He didn't want her shrieking again. Not yet. Reaching the door to her room, he opened the door and said, "Get in." Zombily, she entered the room then saw it. Another bed had been placed in the room.

"Whose bed is that?" she asked, lying on her cot, facing the Dark Lord. A curtain had been placed in between the beds, she observed. Voldemort sat on the other bed. Watching her closely, using every skill of Ligilimency he possessed, he smirked, "Mine." To his satisfaction, instead of screaming or making any sound at all, Silwen fainted and fell asleep, shuddering in her sleep. She was unable to cope with anything else. Flicking his wand, Voldemort made the curtain and stood up. He left the room, musing about the fact that he hardly slept.

"This will break my little Slytherin's spirit, especially now after the Master's kiss."


	28. Deaf

A/N:

Yesterday, I met Eoin Colfer and my life was changed. He is perhaps the funniest man to walk this earth because of the way he talks about the background for his characters and the way he tells stories from his life that inspired him to write his characters the way he did. I loved him!

Happy birthday David Mccullough and David Hasselhoff! So, readers, what did you think of Chapter "Cinderella"? And overall, which chapter has been your favorite? Leave a one-word answer in the comment box? Make an author love you for the rest of your life? (BlueNeutrino, I love you already) I'm also accepting dares for the next chapters...

* * *

Cracking an eye open like cracking an unwilling egg, Silwen woke up. The thin curtain cutting the room in two veiling the horror on the other side. A horror that now felt less horrific than last night. Staring at it, she waited for a hand to wipe the curtain away. On the other side, a silhouette stood darkly against a lamp's light. Tall, black, spectral, and perhaps waiting for her to brush the curtain to the side. Her eyes wandered around her side of the room, looking for her dresser-which wasn't there. Where it had been remained four imprints on the wooden floor, but that was all. It had been moved to the other side.

"Get up." Voldemort's voice slid over the curtain's top and forced her to swing her legs over the bed and stand on them. "Now come over here. I have your clothes." Obediently, Silwen pushed the curtain aside and looked at him. Cold radiated off him though the morning temperature was softer than usual. Grabbing hold of Silwen's hand, he walked with her over to her dresser. On top of it, a bundle of clothing lay. "Take them and change into them. Then come out the moment you have finished," he said handing them to her and pushing her back to her side, drawing the curtain.

To her surprise, the color of the fabric wasn't black or green. It was violet. _Since when do I have violet clothing? Is this a hand-me-down from Narcissa?_ Silwen held the bundle up and a dress unfolded. Long, single-layered, shimmering, and low-necked, with most likely hand-sewn lace designs swirling all over the silken dress like painted wind. Pity the room had no mirror; it would have been amusing to spin and watch the design fly around her body. She changed into the dress, not proud enough to deny herself the small joy of loving the dress' benign feel on her skin. It clung to her torso and arms, but the skirt flowed subtly when she moved even an inch. When parted the curtain, the dress made a pleasant, windy whisper as it trailed on the ground. The only uncomfortable thing was the low neckline that she couldn't change; the Dark Lord had taken her wand from her.

"Narcissa chose well indeed," he murmured softly, inspecting her.

"Ar-is the meeting starting now?" she whispered, backing up.

With a smirk he said, "Not yet." He conjured a stool and motioned for Silwen to sit on it. She sat, her back to him. "Do not move from this stool until I allow it. Now sit up straight and hold your head high." A brush came down on her head, deathly fingers pinching her hair. "You cannot go out in a dress like that without your hair brushed." Stiffening, she let out a lilliputian exclamation and shied away from Voldemort's touch. Frigid fingers caught her hair again and pulled it back towards him.

"I-I can brush my own hair, thank you," she said, her voice cracking. The strokes merely harshened and bit through the knots in her hair, causing her to yelp and cringe.

"Little Snape, behave." The yelps and cringes stopped and she held statue still, hardly daring to breathe. The brush was a blade wrenching through a thick, unwashed, knotted rope, cruelly cutting through it just to see it fall apart and crumble, the wielder not relenting until the rope was completely straightened. Stopping, he said cooly, "Stand." Silwen stood, wiping off a tear before he could see it.

"Come, we are going." Opening the door with a creak, he led the way down the corridor, Silwen following a few paces behind. Soon, they stood in front of the Dining Hall doors. Voldemort pushed the doors apart and continued his proud stride, with her faltering after him. Reaching the head of the table, he took his seat. A moment after, she stood in her place, grateful that at least, _he_ wasn't able to look at her. "When the meeting is over, you will stay and clear up," he hissed, looking around at the currently empty room.

"Yes, my Lord," she said, fingering her hair, trying to comb through it and rid the feeling of Voldemort's fingers. She could still feel the brush pulling, and parting in painful strokes over and over and over again.

Footsteps sounded like whispers as they approached the dining hall. They entered soon, their owners taking a seat. In amazement, Draco looked at the immaculate room; the chairs didn't scrape against the wood, the chandelier made every shadow flee, and the walls glowed vibrantly with pride at being restored to their former beauty. "Incredible," he mouthed at Silwen, smiling. Then he noticed what she was wearing. Eyes growing in amazement, his smile left and an expression of awe took its place. "I've never seen you in purple. You are...pulchritudinous." Lucius and Narcissa, too, were extremely pleased with how their dining hall looked and nodded at Silwen to say thanks. In return, she curtsied.

Before too many people arrived, Voldemort turned to Silwen, soft wax in his hand. "Put this in your ears." She nodded and, carefully avoiding contact, took the wax from him. By the time she had put the wax in, everyone had arrived. New faces were sitting around the table, as well as former ones having left. The meeting began and she stood there, not even pouring glasses; a charmed jug was doing that already. From beginning to end, she stood there, chained by her promise. She watched people's tempers rise, voices raise then drop instantly when Voldemort lifted his hand for quiet. Every so often, Draco risked a smile at her and she smiled back.

The Master constantly attempted to catch her gaze with a possessive smirk, but Silwen managed to avoid his stare, finding a flint on the dress, or a fly that had snuck inside, or Draco to look at. Draco was always willing to help her and hardly knew how much he really did. _I'll have to tell him sometime._ ...

Despite the commotion that fell on her deaf ears, and the Master's silent gloat reminding her of yesterday, Silwen was able to recuperate. The silence and the torment of standing there doing nothing that Voldemort had planned was what she needed to endure for her to finally realize that she...was ok. That she _could_ cope with what was transpiring around her. That she could find peace. And as ironic as it sounded, when Voldemort was there, she was safe-at least from the others in the room. _Voldemort might torture me, but he'd never..._ She shuddered and didn't finish the thought. A day of silence got rid of her hysteria and soothed her nerves like a slow-working salve.

Half-way through the meeting, Silwen even started to get bored. Not knowing what the people were saying, she decided to make up what they said to herself.

"You stole and ate my kitten, Greyback! I'm going to put you on a leash and you'll be my new pet," shouted a nameless Death Eater.

"Silence human, you don't know who you're dealing with!" replied Greyback.

"Are you my mummy?" asked the Master angrily looking at Bellatrix.

"Would Timey like some cookies with his milk?" cooed Bellatrix, her face contorted in anger.

"I have a big rock. My friends don't and they'll be jealous of me!" chanted Spike.

And so on, all around the room, all sorts of ditties quoted, all chair occupants-except for Draco who never said a word-were mocked, to her guilty pleasure. For a while, she was fully entertained. However when she snorted suddenly, Voldemort's menacing glare told her that she'd better stop what she was doing now.

Hours later, the meeting was over. Finally. The room was evacuated and almost empty, with only the Dark Lord and Draco. The Dark Lord moved his lips and hesitantly, Draco left, casting a worried glance at Silwen. Turning to her, the Dark Lord went over to her and pulled the wax out of her ears before she could do it herself. "Do you remember what you are to do now?" he hissed, irritated. So the meeting hadn't gone over well.

"Clear up."

"You have twenty minutes. I will return by then and this room will be as clean as it was before the meeting started. If not, you will feel my anger...or the Master's."

Silwen chocked and coughed, then once she had regained her composure, nodded. "Can I have my wand?"

"No. You-" He stopped mid-sentence, using Ligilimency, seeing in her memory what she had done. "You mocked my guests." The temperature plummeted several degrees. "You now have ten minutes left," he spat slapping her with the back of his hand, watching her fall. "Did your uncle never teach you bravery?"

"He taught me loyalty," spat Silwen, rising to her feet. "He taught me love. Things you will never understand no matter how many people you enslave or murder."

"_Crucio_!" he shouted. Angry from the meeting, Silwen became his scape goat. Falling back on the ground, she screamed loud enough to block out any other noise. He watched her body twist and writhe, his anger ebbing slowly away as he let her torture draw on. Taking the curse off, he left her there on the ground, and stalked out.


	29. Cornered

Cornered

A/N:

July 18th. Happy birthday to Nelson Mandela. Mr. Mandela, I look up to you and am so grateful to what you have done for the world. and I wish you a very merry birthday! And to Van Diesel, even if you aren't my hero. Also to Dick Button whom I desperately want to meet. Your skating ability is...beyond words, thank you for being so incredibly dedicated to your passion.

July 19th. Happy birthday to Brian May, lead guitarist in the band "Queen."

Hullo, Hullo, Hullo. So Blue Neutrino, you wanted some spice, yes? I hope this fills your need. I'm excited...I'm just worried that this chapter is going to be really long...But really epic. Insane. Also, I won't spend a lot of time editing this chapter before put it up, so I forewarn you now, this chapter will be in a very very rough-draft form.

Random thought: I was filing something away and came across the name, "Sybil Luck." I'm not even joking, but the person's parents might have been when they named her...I now want to use that name for a character now...Anyway, here's our chapter! Reviewers, thank you very much for your insight!

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In five minutes, everything was straightened up. Crumbs were in the waste paper bin, dishes and silverware had been cleared off and laid outside so she could take them to the kitchen, small pieces of flint from clothing was scrunched up in a ball and thrown away, and stray parchments lay on the middle of the table in a neat pile. For the remainder of the five minutes, Silwen pulled out a chair and sat on it, resting her bloated feet. Just as her eyes closed, the doors swung open.

"You are dismissed from my side. Get out," hissed Voldemort taking her elbow forcing her to her feet and dragging her into the hallway. Letting go of her, he sent Silwen crashing into the dishes. He ordered her to clean that mess up then returned to the Dining Hall. Carefully, so as not to cut herself, Silwen started to gather the pieces up from the ground, holding them delicately. Seconds later, she dropped them, fearfully. Every shard, every piece was levitating, even the ones she had been holding, and flew repaired into the kitchen, landing neatly in the sink. She spun around and almost fell on the ground herself, going week in the knees when she saw the caster. Rushing to her, a figure in black caught her just before she reached the floor.

"Draco," breathed Silwen in his arms.

"I thought you might want some company," said her perfect surprise.

"So, where are we going?" he asked. He rose, carrying her like a princess carried by a knight in shining armor.

"Someplace private. ...You can put me down now, thank you," she whispered, leaning up to his ear. However, Draco continued to hold her. "The Dark Lord told me to 'get out', so why don't we?"

"You mean... _Out_ out?" he clarified. Silwen nodded solemnly, but her eyes were bright. "If they catch us..."

"We'll have to make sure they don't catch us then. Let's go."

"Sil, we can't risk this. It's too dangerous if they catch us again!"

Stubbornly, she replied, "I'm going even if you aren't. Now put me down please so I can use my legs." Obligingly, Draco carefully set her down, not letting go fully until she was stable. Even then, he held her hand, interweaving his fingers through hers.

"Can I use your wand for a moment?" she asked. Draco nodded and gave it to her. Pointing the wand first at him then at her she whispered twice, "_Dissilusio!_" Both of them disappeared from view. That done, Silwen handed Draco back his mother's wand.

"Wait Sil-" but he was cut off as Silwen started to run almost silently through the manor, dragging him with her, and outside to freedom.

It was chilly outside but the cold seemed to waken Silwen's excitement and she nearly shouted except Draco put a hand over her mouth and pointed to a small congregation of people standing a small ways off. Three people. Two in black coats, leather and an expensive winter one, the other in a beautiful red lace dress. Angel's gang. Silwen let go of Draco and crept to where she could hear their voices.

"The stone holding Acathla is at Hogwarts. Most likely on the grounds," said Angel, faceless in the night.

"So what's our excellent plan going to be?" sniffed Spike disinterestedly.

"Go to the school with Voldemort's army then break off when the chaos starts. After that, we find the stone, get Acathla out of it, awaken him and let the world go to hell. Good?"

"Almost mate, but what about the Slayer? Thanks to Voldemort's brat, the Slayer knows some of our plan."

A laugh erupted from Angel. "I'll distract her. We still have Mr. Giles locked up in our room. Thanks to him, we know how to wake Acathla. Also, I invited someone to agree to make a disturbance. He'll be here-"

"Now," called a new voice rapidly. Tick-Tock. Naturally. He would be used to start chaos.

_Oh no. I have enough information. Time to go before they find me_. She moved back to Draco when a wrong-placed foot snapped a very dry twig. Holding her breath, feeling five pairs of eyes bore into her, she waited until they decided it was an animal who had made the noise. The silence lengthened the Master walked to where the noise had originated, over to Silwen. Fifteen centimeters away from her he stopped, staring into empty space, then turned around. Silwen sighed and continued to get back to Draco when suddenly the Master turned around, lashed out an arm, found her hair, gripped it-and yanked her towards him. Instinctively, she cried out in pain. In the distance, she heard Draco's voice curse. Spike shot towards Draco, but returned quickly, empty handed. Draco must have managed to get away._ I'm an idiot._ _An idiot to forget about him, to forget that even if I'm invisible, people can still hear me. Idiot! Well, I know I'll never make the same mistake again...  
_

The Master dragged her by the hair until they both were at the circle of vampires. "Look who I found," smirked the Master, switching to carrying her much like Draco had, except for the intensely tight grip.

"Tick-Tock found our little bird," whispered Drusilla making room for him, staring directly at Silwen and smiling, showing her ivory teeth. _Can she see through the Disillusionment Charm?_ wondered Silwen.

"Yeah, well I found her boyfriend but figured he'd be too much trouble here so I let him off," snapped Spike.

Angel glared at him then said to the Master, "Good. She can't be allowed to escape."

Eyes narrowing, Angelus said, "Master, drop her on the ground in the middle of us. I think we should figure out exactly how much she knows." The Master's scowl deepened, but he dropped Silwen, who was now entirely visible, and looked at Angelus.

"You're outside of the gate, little bird. How did you manage that?" asked Angel, squatting down next to her. He reached out to her hair and pushed it gently to one side of her neck. Spooked, she crawled away from him, running into Spike's knees. Viciously, Spike kicked her forwards to Angel, who caught her and pinned her to the ground.

"I-I was told to get out by Voldemort," she whispered.

Chuckling, he said, "Tom Riddle let you go? Really?"

Silwen shook her head a smidge. "No, he meant for me to get out of the Dining Hall, not the house. But 'get out' can mean so many things..."

"So you decided to leave, clever girl. But not that clever. You forgot about being quiet," he said tracing her face, grinning at the her tremors. "What did you hear us say?" he murmured in her ear, bending over her.

"I heard about Acathla, where and what he is, what your plan is, that you have your own prisoner in your room."

Angel tsked and lightly pressed his face onto her cheek like a distorted lover's caress. When she began to scream, a hand covered her mouth. "Shhh, you can scream later, I promise. But we have to get you where no one will hear you first. Silly girl, what did you think you'd do with what you heard?" he asked, his face lowering to her neck. Angel's hand left Silwen's mouth, allowing her to answer.

"I-I was g-going to alert the resistance in Sunnydale. Specifically the Slayer," she stuttered through frightened tears. A new hand lowered down to her face, tenderly wiping her tears off, making Silwen start to scream again, only to be cut off by the same hand of the Master's. Desperately, she spat at and licked the Master's hand. The hand drew away instantly, wiping itself on the ground. She smiled and softly, slowly, started to move towards a space between Drusilla's and Spike's legs. If she could get in between them and out, she might be able to start running and make a lot of ruckus to sound an alert someone. Anyone.

"Let me take her for you," persuaded the the Master, level with Angel. "You don't want the girl."

"As right as you may be mate, you're wrong," said Spike from above. "I think that Voldy, here, would pay dearly to get his girl back. Or perhaps our real Master would like a little play-thing too. New blood, you know."

"Good boy, Spike," said Angel, standing. "Sorry, Tick-Tock, I think we'll keep her."

Glaring, the Master snapped, "You will not. At least let me come with her and have her until you hand her over to your vampire ruler. I'll keep her contained for you..." Silwen shuddered as she kept silent and moving, unnoticed by the four non-humans.

"What if we took her to the Master in Sunnydale until Voldy sees her absence?" debated Spike.

"Ohh, I like it, Spike," responded Drusilla, standing to the side and widening the gap.

"Then that's what we will do and then return to finish off with Acathla," decided Angel. "Master, you'll travel with us. Silwen is under your care and I want her in perfect health for our boss."

Smirking delightly, the Master said, "Of course!"

Crawling a few more steps, Silwen broke through. She stayed low and slunk slowly away from them towards the manor.

"Silwen, we are-" began the Master looking down then stopping when she wasn't there.

Silwen got to her feet and ran, screaming about Angelus on the top of her lungs when-Crash! Angel had jumped, pouncing on her back, sending them both to the dirt. "Brat!" he said, shallowly biting the nape of her neck. He watched the blood flow, timing how long he could restrain himself. The moment he bit her, Silwen became silent and immobile. If she stayed still, would her blood flow less. Angelus got off her back and forced her back on her feet. He shoved her in front of him and walked her back to the others, her hands stuck behind her held by him.

"What if we broke the little bird's wings? Our boss wouldn't care about that," mused Spike, irritated.

"If that happens again, Tick-Tock, both of you will lose your sight," snapped Angelus, thrusting Silwen at the Master.

"You bit her!" reviled the Master, holding Silwen like she was a hostage. He pressed one thumb against her wound to stop the bleeding, pushing harder when she winced.

Suddenly, the Master and Silwen stiffened, the vampires warily watching them. Close by, a metallic throbbing echoed across the field surrounding the manor.

The Master moved his hand from his neck to his pocket and brought out a knife. Genially, like it was a joke of some sort, he pressed the dull side to her throat. "He came much sooner than I expected. Well, this could be better...No bodies to walk over, or to trip over than if it had happened at the Hogwarts battle."

"What is going on?" asked Angelus with deadly calm.

"I-er..the Doctor has arrived," whispered Silwen staring at thin air that was quickly hardening.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, he doesn't have much time here, he does," murmured Drusilla dancing now in a circle.

Soon, the throbbing hum faded with a large, blue, wooden box appeared and solidified in front of them. The door creaked open and a man stepped out, dressed in a brown pinstripe suit, etched in blue. Glasses threatened to tip off his sharp nose as he evaluated the people in front of him. "What?" he spluttered, raising an eyebrow.

"Who are you? I-I wanted the Doctor." whispered Silwen.

The Master cackled behind her. "This _is_ the Doctor, Silly!"

Shaking her head, wincing as her skin moved across the metal she retorted, "He doesn't have a white shirt underneath, he's not wearing a light brown suit, his hair is reasonable, he isn't wearing a bow tie and his light is blue. When I saw him, the light was green."

"Ah, you've seen me in my future. ... I wear a bow tie?" asked the Doctor. Silwen nodded.

"Time Lords regenerate, Silly," snapped the Master, turning the knife so the sharp side pressed against her skin. A couple crimson beads appeared in a thin necklace drooping down her neck. To avoid the knife, Silwen pressed herself closer to the Master, making him chuckle. The hand circling around her middle tightened. She jumped, trying to regain the distance, suddenly preferring the knife to him. But the Master wouldn't let her and simply held her closer with more force.

"And who are you?" he said worriedly looking at her. "Master what's going on?"

"I-I'm-"

"My new pet, Silwen Snape. Don't you recognize her from the video,_ Doctor_?"

The Doctor's eyes grew wide as he stared at Silwen. "Silwen Snape...You sent me the message about Arkangel, which by the way was really helpful, you saved the world."

Spike's eyes glinted angrily; he didn't like being in the dark. So he started with the first question that he thought of. "What is that blue box?"

"The TARDIS," said the Doctor absently as gears spun inside his mind.

Spike looked at Silwen. "Tell me, pet, what is a TARDIS?"

"It's a time travel box," said Silwen, a tear on her cheek.

"Wait. Angel. Vampire. You had a soul, last time we met," said the Doctor.

Smiling, Angel said, "So you do remember me from the Boxer Rebellion. It's been a long time, Doctor. You almost had me there, offering for me to...travel with you. Oh, my soul, it's gone."

Pity swept into the Doctor's eyes, looking at both Silwen and Angelus. "I'm so sorry."

"Tick-tock, tick-tock goes the clock..." chanted Drusilla, having stopped dancing.

"Well. It was nice meeting another Time Lord. But Angel, I think it's time to go," said Spike.

"I'm afraid you can't do that just yet," said the Doctor. "Leave Silwen here, Master."

The Master laughed, thickening Silwen's necklace, making her whimper. "You three go. I need to finish something," he said, his lips curling back into a sneer.

"Three hours. If you aren't in Sunnydale by then, the Hogwarts Battle will end with you," threatened Angel. "Spike, Dru? Let's go get our package and go home." He turned around swiftly, with Spike and Drusilla following, arms linked around the others' waist.


	30. Nuts and Bolts

**A/N:** So, I have a new character introduced! Her name is Eilowny Tonks and I adore her. However, she isn't mine. She is my freind's character, and my friend has given me permission to use her in my stories (Silwen and Eilonwy are best friends). I hope you like her! ... Sorry for not updating sooner! *hangs head in guilt* Anyways, thank you everyone for your very kind reviews! ... Everything now is in place for the end which will be soon. The cauldron is fired, the potion is brewing, and soon, it's going to boil over! ...After that, I'll bring it to a low simmer. But it won't die. Ever.

To all of you wondering how the new arrivals came to the manor, I don't know. Honestly, with Eilonwy, her methods are always unusual but always work. Ask her how she did it and she'll tell you.

* * *

"Koschei. Please. Don't let it end like this. Let her go," pleaded the Doctor.

"Maybe. So you liked my video? Liked how I got her completely tamed by its end? I can do that with anyone, Doctor. And I'll keep on doing it to her if you don't let me have what I really want."

The Doctor stepped toward the Master. "What do you want, Master? Is it worth it? Torturing the poor girl to insanity to get to me?"

Cackling, the Master said, "Who said it was to get to you? Half of it was for fun, Doctor. The other half was to make sure you'd come to see me...You just came a few days too soon. But it's better this way. Nothing to trip over."

The Doctor nodded. "Drusilla was right, Master, I don't have much time. Tell me what you want in exchange for Silwen and I will do whatever I can to get it for you."

"You never get it, do you?" sneered the Master, sliding his knife an inch to the left, adding more beads to Silwen's necklace. "I don't want anything except your surrender. The moment you tell me you will stop saving the universe, I will let her go."

"You-you can't promise that, Doctor. Ever," said Silwen despite the knife's pressure. "If you have to go, then go! ... I have friends here, friends who know I'm in trouble. I hope I'll see you soon."

The Doctor's sharp, intelligent eyes softened and he said, "I'm so sorry. I really do have to go, a friend of mine is stuck in Pompeii before the volcano erupts. I'll come back."

"Run, Doctor," said the Master. "Run before storm hits."

Eyes sharpening again, he glared menacingly at the Master and returned to the TARDIS.

"Watch your hero leave you, Silly. Watch him run to save someone else. Someone more important," whispered the Master in Silwen's ear.

A tear skidded down her face as she watched the blue box and the metallic thrumming fade. Feigning weakness, she let her knees collapse, smiling slightly when the Master cursed, dropped his knife and picked her up in his arms. "A black knight saves his little princess and takes her awa-"

"NO!" shouted an angry American voice. Suddenly a blast of blue came from no where and shot directly at the Master's feet, hitting him and Silwen. They were frozen. In time. A man in a red lab coat walked over to the frozen duo, two red-headed twins and a teenage girl accompanying him.

"This bloke is the Master?" asked a twin.

"The Master of what?" mused the other.

"Life," stated the girl in an authoritative voice.

"Now, how do I separate the Master from Silwen?" murmured the man who was holding a device labeled, "Freeze Ray-Don't touch!"

"Dr. Horrible, we might want to try moving them," suggested one of the twins. His name was George Weasley. His brother was Fred Weasley.

"George, I don't know if that's possible," said Dr. Horrible, massaging his temples. "I think we'll have to unfreeze them and then you can cast a spell to separate them. Fred, grab his knife before I unfreeze them."

Unexpectedly, the girl, whose name was Eilonwy Tonks ran over to the knife and snatched it up before anyone else. "This might be useful later on," she said nonchalantly, and started playing with it as if it was a toddler's toy.

Dr. Horrible looked at her, momentarily dazed.

"Don't worry, mate. She's always been odd. But her sister, Nymphadora Tonks is much...more normal," reassured George, patting Dr. Horrible on the shoulder.

At the touch, Billy (Dr. Horrible's other name) shook off the daze. "Eilonwy, could you turn into the Dark Lord? Tick-Tock might be willing to reason then."

Instantly, the Dark Lord stood before them, still handling the knife, making Fred and George jump.

"Ok. I'm unfreezing them now," warned Dr. Horrible, raising the gun and flicking a switch, turning the freeze off and the unfreeze on. A jet of green emerged, hitting Silwen and the Master who began to stir.

"_Relashio_!" shouted the twins in unison, pointing their wands at the Master. Silwen flew out of his arms, landing near Eilonwy. "_Petrificus totallus_!" The Master froze again and fell to the ground.

When Silwen saw who she thought was the Dark Lord, she stood up and started to scurry away when he spoke in a laughing whisper.

"Silwen and Draco sitting in a tree, eating ice cream, happy as can be...First comes pecan, second comes vanilla, third comes a bludger!"

"Eilonwy?" mouthed Silwen, covering her shock and looking at the others. "Fred? George? ... Dr. Horrible."

"I never thought we'd ever help you, but seeing the shock on Malfoy's face was worth it. He's still in the manor, talking to his parents. He'll be out soon though, and ready to ki-"

"Hey, that's my job, embarrassing her," said Eilonwy, approaching the Master but looking at the twins. "Now, what shall we do with you, 'Tick-Tock'?" she murmured, fingering the knife. Then she smiled and transfigured the knife into a permanent marker. Kneeling down, she began to draw on his face and arms. Bunnies appeared, little leprechauns danced around a pot of gold, mismatched socks covered his nose, making the Master's eyes glow with fury.

"Er _Dark Lord_?" prodded Fred.

"Right. You, Master, are no longer needed. Leave now and never come back!"

The Master's face looked incredulous. "What did you say?" his face seemed to ask.

"I said leave now and _never_ come back!" shouted Eilonwy triumphantly.

"Um, Dark Lord, he's frozen. He can't really leave now and n-"

"What is going on here?" cut a voice through the night. Cold. Angry. Worse than the Avada Kedavra itself. "Silwen come over here. Don't leave my side again."

Horrified, Silwen's legs dragged her over to the voice. When she bumped into him, his arm snaked around hers and clenched it. "I repeat, what is going on?"

"_Lumos!_" shouted George, suddenly afraid. The spell bringing light to the situation, it illuminated the faces of a second Voldemort, the entire Malfoy family, and Bellatrix.

"The-the Master was going to take me to Sunnydale, my Lord. Dr. Horrible and his assistants were only impeding him from doing so," whispered Silwen.

"What is this?" shrieked Bellatrix, looking back and forth between the two Dark Lords.

"Simple, Bellatrix. One of us is a metamorphmagus-an imposter that must be finished off," said Eilonwy in a very Voldemort-like manner. However, her skin looked like it was melting, changing, turning into a field mouse. "As much as I'd like to do that, I'd rather stay alive. Now that Silly is freer, I'm going to go. Bye, Silly! I'll see you soon! Keep in touch, yall," came a voice from the ground, dodging green jets from Voldemort's and Bellatrix' wands.

The distraction of Eilonwy also allowed Fred and George to be shoved outside the gate by Dr. Horrible. "GO!" he shouted at the twins. "I'll contact you when I need you again! Thanks for helping!"

Crack. The twins disapparated and Dr. Horrible returned to everyone else. Only, two people were missing. Voldemort and Silwen.


	31. Walking Down Memory Lane

**A/N: **Welcome! Another rough draft chapter, sorry!

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Voldemort's nails dug into Silwen's forearm, drawing a spiraling bracelet around it in crescent shapes just as her necklace dried. Wind whipped her, making her squint and tug tears from her eyes as Voldemort flew across the English country side without a broom. Looking down at her, he smirked, and started to descend in front of a rotting house. Covered in ivy, broken windows everywhere, and cobwebs barring their entrance, Silwen wondered what they were doing here.

"My Lord? Where are we?" she dared to whisper, opening her eyes when they were on ground.

"We are in front of my mother's home, little _Snape_. Come. We are going inside." He let go of her, magicked the door open and pushed her forward.

Passing the the front door, she shuddered as she noticed the snake skeleton on the door.

"The work of my dear uncle as a boy. He too was a Parstlemouth as young Potter and I are," murmured Voldemort, his voice shaking on the last word. Noticing that, Silwen wondered. Ever since he had arrived, while Eilonwy was causing a distraction, Voldemort seemed...unsettled. If she didn't know better, she'd have said he was afraid. However, Lord Voldemort did not fear anything.

"What are we doing here, my Lord?" she asked stepping around the filthy house.

"Stand there and tell me if anyone comes here," snapped the Dark Lord, kicking things off the floor and ripping the floor boards out. Soon the house was ransacked and he hadn't found it. The ring. It was gone. After he had dismissed the girl, a goblin had informed him that Potter had broken into Gringotts and had stolen a cup. Fury shot through him as he continued to search for his precious ring, irreplaceable. It had to be here. It must. But it wasn't. That was obvious. "_Crucio_!" shouted, pointing his wand at Silwen who dropped to the floor shrieking for it to stop. The ring was gone. Perhaps Dumbledore had made the connection between his name and the Gaunt house. Perhaps he had told Potter. The cave. That was now crucial.

Nagini was safe with him, watching the girl writhe, his diary had been destroyed-how had he not felt that?-the cup was in Potter's possession, and his ring was gone. Did he know about the others? Nagini, diary, cup, the ring, what if he had known about the locket? and Hogwarts? The boy couldn't possibly know. No one knew except for himself. No one.

His eyes focused, looking around. Ah, the girl was still under the curse, now hardly twitching. Carelessly, he lifted the torture and allowed her to remain motionless on the decrepit floor. Nagini looked at him, curious, hungry. "_She is not food_," he murmured in Parsletongue, walking over and picking the girl up in his arms. "_Nagini, we are leaving_."

Once more wind howled in pain as he cut through it, flying to the cave. In his arms he felt Silwen stir, the wind snatching her breath from her, killing her whimper when she felt his arms holding her. She lay there, knowing that if she fell out, she'd fall to the ground, most likely to her death. And she couldn't die yet. Not before the Dark Lord had fallen.

Cold wind bit through them, avenging itself. They stood on the cliff, looking at the cave's entrance. "Follow me, little Slytherin." Having no choice, she trailed after him entering the cave. When they reached a stone blocking the way, he snapped, "Hold out your arm." Drawing out a knife, he ran it across her wrist lightly, like it was a feather. "Ah," she moaned, cringing. Voldemort let her blood drip on the rock, and it moved away. "We are not finished here yet. After me."

He led her through a dreary cave filled with foreboding stalagmites, and stalactites sharper than the Dark Lord's knife. Soon, they reached a lake. At the side bobbed a small boat. Voldemort walked to it, told her to get in and got in himself and started rowing. Her eyes roved around the cavern, noticing an eerie green glow from the center. A stone sort of something...They drew nearer and nearer to it, the boat finally touching the ground surrounding the green thing, which she saw now was a stone cauldron with a potion inside. So that was the glow.

Voldemort walked up to it, conjured a cup and pressed it into her hands, taking her hand and drawing her near like a parent taking a naughty brought child to see Father Christmas. "Drink," he ordered, putting the cup in her hands. "Drink until the cauldron is empty. Start now!"

On his orders, she put her cup into the cauldron, filled it and began to drink. Instantly, she relived her uncle's death. "No!" she shouted as he fell again and again. "No, Uncle I'm so sorry! I'm-"

"Drink!" shouted the Dark Lord once more. "I will not repeat myself!"

Silwen continued to drink, reliving memories of Lucie's death, Draco's tormenting, the muggle children's bullying, and Voldemort. Endless memories of Voldemort mixed with the Master. All her worst ones, circling around and around her head. She had never seen or heard of a potion like this. And she wanted it to end. But her hand kept diving and making her drink more and more. Another time, her uncle died and she was helpless to defend him. "No!" she cried incessantly, until the Dark Lord hissed, "Silence! Finish drinking." Putting her cup inside the cauldron a last time, she drank, shaking, mouthing empty apologies, shuddering from past attacks.

The potion gone, Voldemort looked inside. It was empty. Screeching in fury, he dragged the senseless girl back inside the boat. Hogwarts. He had to save that one before Potter got to it-and suddenly Voldemort saw a flash of Potter's mind, felt Potter see what he had seen, hear what he had just thought. Now the boy knew. Well, the battle had already been chosen to be there. Now, he'd lead it, make sure that he'd secure the horcrux and finish Potter off there. Tonight, Potter would die. Tonight this ended.

He got out of the boat, Nagini slithering out, and carrying Silwen in her coils. Bending down, Voldemort picked her up, conjured a glass of water and forced it down her throat. Spluttering, Silwen coughed and slowly regained her steadiness.

"We are going to Hogwarts, little Slytherin. And there, you will watch as I kill your hero."

"That's impossible, my Lord," she whispered, "You already did."

Voldemort smacked her sharply and gripped her arm again. The wind beat against them as he rose into the air and started to fly to his first home. The first place he felt like he belonged. The perfect place to end everything, to kill the Boy who Lived.

"Come, little Slytherin," he murmured. When they stopped flying, Silwen stepped away from him, trying to get her stutters into a normal breathing pattern. However, it wasn't working that well; Silwen could feel his watching her every step, smirk at her every breath. "Watch my army gather here, watch us destroy this little rebellion before it even begins!" he hissed, standing behind her, his breath in her ear.

In minutes, the army was assembled. Giants, werewolves, masses of vampires, and of course Death Eaters, inferi and Dementors. Truly, this was the largest army that would annihilate every last speck of hope and idea of rebellion. He looked at the front, nodding at Bellatrix and the Malfoys. Even Draco had come.

"Long live the Order!" Silwen shouted to the army.

Arm raising, Voldemort made out to slap the insolence off her mouth but stopped abruptly and turned the slap into a stroking of her cheek. "Act as if this is natural," he snapped, snaking an arm around her waist and holding her tightly to his side as if they were lusting paramours. Inside her, Silwen's shudder and terrified gasp died before they could even be born. Melting to his side, she leaned into him, feeling Draco's horrified eyes on her back. "Act as if you love until they leave, little Snape or Draco's parents will die here-before the battle starts."

Silwen nodded and put on an adoring face as the Dark Lord turned to face the other direction. As if she was a marionette controlled by strings from above, her arm wrapped around Voldemort's waist. Mentally, she cried, horrified and revolted at what she was doing. Never, had he been so physically connected and close to her. Never. Glancing at Draco, she saw her own hidden fear mirrored in his eyes. When he caught her gaze, his expression shifted into one of determined bravery. _I'll get you out of this_, he seemed to say. Inconspicuously, she shook her head. _Don't. Don't you dare_, she replied, her face hardening.

"Little Slytherin, your expression isn't romantic," said the Dark Lord, bending down to her height, his lips on her ear. "Look at me the way you look at Draco, until our guests leave." He rose again, smirking as he watched Silwen's expression of fright change into one of love. ''Better, little Snape."

To her surprise, the mass of thousands of Death Eaters and other creatures parted in the middle, letting three figures pass through them. Black cloaks swirling around them in the wind, three men, paler than death itself.

"Ah, Lord Voldemort! It is a pleasure to see you again," called the leader.

"And I you, Marcus, Caius and Aro. I am honored that the three of you have come! I expected another...envoy," replied Voldemort approaching them as the three vampires approached Voldemort.

"We have come to add to your force, Voldemort, as we speak they are lining up and will help until the battle is over."

Nodding courteously, Voldemort said, "Thank you, you are very generous, Volturi. But surely, you did not have to make the travel?"

Aro laughed, "No, but we wished to meet your new girl, Silwen Snape."

"Ah, that can be done. Aro, Marcus, Caius, I present to you Silwen Snape, my fiancee...A very honest girl she is, and a powerful witch."

Surprise flickered onto Aro's face."Engaged? You, Lord Voldemort, engaged? ... You have my congratulations!" he said, shaking Voldemort's hand before Voldemort could avoid his touch then smiling. "Oh, clever, Mr. Riddle. Thinking if you could be engaged, I wouldn't take her from you? Well, now I most certainly will. Unless you let me take more of her blood with me, of course," chided Aro chuckling. He reached for Silwen's hand, but Voldemort drew her away.

"You will not take her from me, Aro. However, if it's blood you want, then I might be generous if you are willing to let your fighters stay with me," replied Voldemort smoothly. To Silwen he said, "Drop the act, Silwen, step away from me, and proffer your wounded arm to Aro."

Faltering, Silwen did as she was told, her dried blood cracking as she stretched her skin. The taughtness cracked, new blood spilling from the place Voldemort had cut her. Greedily, Aro held a bottle under the cut, catching the stream of blood. Muttering something, Voldemort pointed his wand at the bottle and said, "That bottle now can be filled to eternity, Aro. However, I want her alive."

Aro nodded then, catching Silwen as she collapsed. He continued to hold her and the bottle to her for a minute longer then stopped. Voldemort flicked his wand at the wound and sealed it. "Thank you, Silwen. My my, child. I never knew you have gone through so much...Perhaps you'd like to spend a small sejour in Italy someday? We'd love to host you, child for a week or two."

Silwen shook her head and stepped away, only to collapse on the ground and find herself in Voldemort's arms again. She moaned and struggled desperately to get out of his arms. Laughing softly, he allowed her to escape him and lie on the ground, watching her shudder, gloating. "So, Aro, you have enough to let your army stay here?"

Aro nodded and turned. "Marcus, Caius, we are leaving. Oh, Silwen, I thought you might like to know. We let Edward and Bella go home. As we speak, they are back in Washington, free of us. ... Now, we must be going. Voldemort, please send out vampires back as soon as you have won. Thank you and good luck to you and your battle." With that, they disappeared in a silent flash of wind.

"It is time," hissed Voldemort in Silwen's ear, chuckling at her moan. "Get up, little Slytherin and walk with me into the soon to be valley of death." Standing, he waited for the girl to get to her feet then shouted using a Sonorus charm, "It is time! Fight loyal servants!"

Around Hogwarts, a large force field covered it in a large, thick dome. But that was easily gotten rid of. With a flash of his wand, Voldemort broke the dome. "Charge!" he shouted, dragging Silwen with him as he flew down to the castle.


	32. May the Odds be Ever in Your Favor

Hullo. Sorry for the lack of updating! *hangs head in shame* This story is almost done, and I'm unwanting to finish it. It's been so much fun to write, but I want to finish it before I start college...Let's see how this works out. I think I'll be able to do it though! I only have at most two chapters until I change this story from "In-progress" to "Complete." *Pauses a moment to wipe away a tear* I want to thank every single one of you for keeping with me, for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you love Silwen as much as I do.

I quote Voldemort's speech in this chapter's end...The one where he tells people to stop fighting for an hour and bury their dead, where he tells Harry that Harry has one hour to come and meet Voldemort or Voldemort will enter the fight personally.

The part right after the Fiendfyre, the commotion, that's Fred's death scene.

Please tell me if I haven't tied up loose ends. Yes, I still have one more, I think to tighten, in the next chapter or or two, but if you see something that doesn't make sense or that is a glitch, please inform me and I will fix it! Thank you! Thank you, thank you!

Note: This is a jumbled mess of a chapter. It's not exactly canon. You have been warned.

* * *

"My first thousand, go down and kill whoever you find in your path! We will have ten waves, each going in thousands. Each new one descending on my command! I am staying here and directing the waves. Now, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and my dear little Snape, find Potter, stop him!" shouted Voldemort, brandishing his wand and shoving Silwen away from him, handing her her wand. "I'm going to let you use it." She ran over to Draco, taking her hand in his among the pandemonium that had erupted the minute the army had descended onto the castle.

From the masses, Crabbe and Goyle, people Silwen hadn't seen in months, ran along them.

"Hey! Wait!" called a voice Silwen dreaded, making her stumble. "Silly, stop running!" The Master was coming along, easily catching up with them. "I'm going to make sure you do your job, little one, then you're mine..." he hissed, running beside her other side.

Turning his head, Draco attempted to pull Silwen to his other side, but the Master grabbed her hand, suspending her between them. "Enjoy your boyfriend while you still can," shouted the Master.

Yet despite Draco and the Master's yells and pullings, Silwen didn't pay attention to them. What was going on in the Great Hall was much more...riveting. For inside the castle, ready to meet Voldemort's fury was...a miracle. Thausands of witches and wizards from all over the world, summoned here thanks to the Order of the Pheonix and Mr. Giles, fighting the Dementors, giants, vamipres, other creatures, and Death Eaters, laughing at the army who suddenly found their magical muggle weapons...backfiring on them. Voldemort's Army was having serious trouble managing the purposely faulty weapons, trying to find countercurses to block the black-eye-giving-smoking-guck-squirting-cream-spilling-havoc-wreaking effects. The weapon owners were livid. But the vampires that the Vulturi had supplied were faring better; their bodies were their weapons. Yet, new vampires were fighting the red-pupiled ones, new vampires led by none other than Edward and a very white, very strong Bella (Silwen assumed). And even better, Edward's side was winning. Silwen shouted a thank you to Edward as she ran past. _Edward is fighting here. I wonder who his allies are._

* * *

Suddenly, Silwen forgot about moving. A blue box had appeared in the middle of the Great Hall, squashing discarded weapons. A glorious thrumming filled the room, and for a second everyone stopped moving to watch the TARDIS gain substance. The door swung open, just as the second wave of Voldemort's army hit, throwing curses everywhere. But from inside came a shout, "Victory to the Jammy Dodgers Team!" And a second wave of defenders swarmed out of the box. Yet, more astonishing was the fact that hardly any of the new fighters were human. Most were quite obviously from different planets.

However, Silwen didn't notice really notice the new army. A human head with frizzy hair appeared, shooting a gun despite the faint "No guns, River, I _told_ you!" So, it was the bow-tie Doctor; Silwen had recognized the slightly arrogant lilt and saw a flash of a red bow tie from inside. She smiled, and with a large burst of energy, broke away from Draco and the Master, running towards the TARDIS. She weaved inbetween everyone, casting a mobile shield charm around her, and dove into River's arms, even though River was shooting her gun at several oncoming vampires Angelus had sent.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a small blonde fighting Spike, a skinny, dark skinned girl fighting Drusilla, and an obviously English man fighting Angelus with the help of...Dr. Horrible. Surprisingly, Dr. Horrible and the English stranger were holding up a good fight. But it looked like Spike, Dru, and Angelus were trying to run away... Silwen allowed herself a smile as she pulled away from River.

"I thought you wouldn't come back..." said Silwen, wiping away a tear, and casting a small dome of protection around the two of them. Every noise, and person instantly seemed to vanish from existence. River returned the hug, wiping away her own tears.

"You're my godchild, I can't abandon you, sweetie," replied River. "I never will, I promise."

Silwen nodded, looking at River, noticing a thin, golden band around River's ring finger on her left hand. "You're..."

"Married. Which makes the Doctor your godfather," said River, smirking at the Doctor, who was shouting directions to Jack, Amy, and Rory. "Now, I do have to go out and fight. After this is over, we can talk."

"And I have a mission to complete..." murmured Silwen, giving River a second hug and lifting the dome.

"Go then and I'll see you soon!" shouted River, now that they had returned to the commotion.

"SILWEN!" came Draco's frantic call as he ran over to her. "We found Potter heading to Room of Requirement! Let's go! Crabbe and Goyle are already headed that way!"

A third wave of Voldemort's army stormed into the castle, but Draco and Silwen managed to avoid curses and bodies. Bodies standing as well as bodies lying on the floor. It took everything she had not to stop and cry over them, mourn their bravery on both sides. Yes, both sides possessed bravery and should be remembered.

"We're here," panted Draco, somehow opening the door. Carefully, he stepped through and stood back to give Silwen space to enter the room.

When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Silwen stared in horror. Spike, Angelus, and Drusilla had managed to get away from the Slayer (she assumed that was the petite blonde) and find what they were looking for...A great, stone demon that was slowly opening its jaw. On the other side of the room, Harry, Weasley, and Granger were fighting Crabbe and Goyle, holding...Ravenclaw's diadem of all things.

Draco ran over to the young generation while Silwen sprinted to the door. Quickly, she sent a message Patronus to the Slayer, telling her where Acathla was, left the door open with a charm and ran back to Draco.

"What's the diadem for, Potter? Do you really think it will fit over your thick head?" jeered Draco. Apparently, he was still angry about the incident in his manor.

"We're trying to save the world, you stupid git!" yelled Ron, holding an odd sort of...fang in his hand. If Silwen didn't know better, she would have said it was a basilisk fang.

"Harry," said Silwen as she cast a half-hearted Freezing charm in Hermione's direction, "Have you seen the memories yet?"

"Is this really the time, Snape to be asking that?" yelled Harry over the sudden commotion; Buffy had found the room, starting to battle with Angelus. Oddly, Spike was sneaking away, carrying a sleeping Drusilla in his arms. Interesting...

"It's my last chance to, _Potter_, so yes!" responded Silwen, sending a Jelly Legs Jinx in his direction. "You must see those memories! Now! Dumbledore said that those memories are the most crucial memories he possesses! Dumbledore needs you to see them!"

Harry groaned, and Silwen realized with a jolt, that it wasn't a loud groan, but a soft one. If she heard it then that meant it had grown quieter. Why?...She looked around to where Angelus and the Slayer had been battling moments ago.

The Slayer was gone. And Acathla was frozen once more, its jaws closed. Angelus was nowhere in sight. _What happened?_ she wondered, casting a small flame spell at the edges of Weasley's robes. She breathed a sigh of relief. At least the world wasn't going to be destroyed by Acathla...But that didn't mean that the battle was over.

All at once, either Crabbe or Goyle muttered someting and flames shot out of his wand. Flames that took the shape of creatures far worse than what Acathla looked like, with tongues of flame. The idiot had cast Fiendfyre.

"RUN!" shouted Draco, grabbing Silwen's hand and dashing to the door, only to be met by a sudden tongue of flame trying to lick them into its jaws. Then, mercy flew from above and Silwen found herself lifted into the air, Draco as well. She looked up, meeting Ron's eyes. His hands gripped her as Harry held on to Draco. Hermione, on Ron's broom, also held on to Silwen. "I'm not letting you fall!" screamed Hermione above the noise of flame and ruination. Behind them, the fyre devoured everything in its path. Things melted, crashed to the ground, and shrieked in agony as they perished in the malicious flames.

A thick, coiling, spitting creature's claw reached for them, trying to catch them, but just before it touched any of them, they flew through the door and magically Binded the door shut.

"Crabbe..." muttered Draco, desolate, crumpling on the floor. Crabbe had tripped inside, and hadn't gotten up quickly enough to evade his own curse.

"He's dead," spat Ron harshly.

"Harry, watch that memory. Now," hissed Silwen, rushing to Draco, helping him up. "That object you had-"

"It's destroyed," breathed Hermione, wrapping an arm around Ron. "The cup is too, Harry. We-" she stopped abruptly when when she remembered that Silwen was still there.

"I think I'll visit Dumbledore's office, alone, if you don't mind. You two, stay here, help fight. I'll be back soon..." said Harry, running off to his destination. Suddenly, cries from a corridor near the one they were in made Ron and Hermione snap to attention.

"Right, we'll be off, then!" said Ron, nodding at the three Slytherins.

"Thank you, for saving my life..._Ron_!" shouted Silwen as he and Granger ran towards the noise. They must know the people there.

"Come on, let's find my parents and get out of this mess," muttered Draco, leaning heavily on Silwen who staggered under his weight. Where was Goyle? She looked around. He must have gone off somewhere, she thought irritatedly. Git.

Silwen stopped walking. "Draco. Draco, I can't carry you, and if you keep on leaning on me, I think I'm going to collapse. Please, please, we'll find your parents faster if you use your legs better."

Groaning again, Draco slowly started to walk with as much strength as he had left. But he had hardly any. And as Silwen realized this, she found a corner, sat Draco and herself down, cast a powerful Disillusionment and Protego charm on them both and together they rested, completely ignoring everything transpiring around them, unaware of the time passing. A bubble of peace, a small haven in the midst of hell. They had each other. And that was the only comfort they needed. Until the voice came. A voice that shattered her soul once more.

"You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, Directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour. And, little Slytherin, I request your presence by my side once more. I need to give you away."

"Sil, n-no. Y-you c-can't l-leave m-me," stuttered Draco. "I-I n-nee-"

But Silwen cut him off. "_Pertrificus Totalus_," she said, tears flooding down her cheeks, she bent down, and kissed him on the lips, letting her fingers run through his hair, find their place on his neck. Finishing, she stood up, and whispered as she walked away, "I love you, Draco."


	33. EXTERMINATE!

**A/N:** "Hello! This is a funny sort of place, isn't it?" (HP, movie #2, Professor Lockheart). Well, here we are at the near-end with one or two chapters left. I'm feeling rather sentimental right now, so bear with me. Again, thank you, all of you who have stuck with me, or for those of you who are reading my story after it is complete. You've made me feel so appreciated and I've loved reading your comments. :3 Please, I'd love to hear from you who read this months later, or even years later. I love all of you so so much, and I'm going to miss writing this story. Again, thank you for being here today, "in" this chapter.

Warning, this is a delightfully long chapter, around 5800 words. Please tell me if you think I should split it into two! I'd really _really_ appreciate it!

So, I'm going to thank all my favoriters, alerters, and reviewers in my last chapter. If you would like to see your name there, please do one (or more) of those actions...And I'll check on this story often, so if you review after it's complete, I'll edit the last chapter and put you in.

Also, randomly, I updated the last chapter, and put in that Voldemort gave Silwen the use of her wand.

In this I quote part of Voldemort's, Bellatrix', and many other's dialog from HP 7. I don't own it. It is JK Rowling's.

_**IMPORTANT NOTICE: In the book and movie, they talk about the Elder Wand...I'm pretending that part didn't happen because Silwen destroyed it a couple months ago. ... Now poor Harry will have to buy a new wand instead of repairing his old one... :(**_

Now, without further ado, here's the second to last chapter...

* * *

Tears appearing again, Silwen made her way outside, keeping herself under a strong Disillusionment charm. She didn't want anyone trying to stop or hex her. However, she walked slowly; she had one hour to make her way there, why not take her time and do what she could? Feet taking her past bodies lying, she cast innumerable simple healing spells, going even slower when no one was around and taking more time to heal them in more depth. At first, all she saw was destruction; charred walls, shattered glass on the floor, streaks of blood mixed in. And bodies. Everywhere. So this is the price of courage, the desire for freedom, and the bond of loyalty to one side or the other. Carefully, she stepped over a pile of ashes, wondering whose ashes they were.

She looked around again and then started to notice the Great Hall becoming a second infirmary since the Hospital Wing was already overcrowded. People capable of walking were everywhere, tending to the wounded, hugging the crying. Silwen saw a Weasley girl, Ginevera, wrapping her arms around a crying student, holding back her own tears. There was hope here, as well as a tender feeling of care and mourning. Many sobs, especially from the Weasleys, bent over a specific body, sounded loudly, echoing through the school. Others, mainly adults, were piling up the dead in a respectful line so their faces were clearly visible. However, Silwen did not look at them. Right now, Silwen was in a very fragile state mind, seeing the faces of people she knew might shatter the little sanity she had left. So she remained an anonymous angel, helping while she approached the Forbidden Forest.

Outside, a large fire was growing, a strong stench of acid sweetness and burning bodies wafting towards her. In the firelight, she spied Edward, piling limbs and torsos into the flames. _Edward Cullen. I'm glad you were able to get her back_, thought Silwen, knowing Edward would hear. In a moment, Edward stood before her, and in another, the rest of the vampires she had come over, as well as several young men, half naked.

"Silwen Snape, this is my family. I'd like to introduce you to Bella, Alice, Rosalie, Esme, Emmett, Jasper, Carisle, and...Reneesme, my daughter. We even have a few werewolves, _not_ part pf my family. This is Jacob, Seth, Sam, Quil, Embry, Paul, Jared, Colin, Brady, and Leah," Edward said cordially, motioning to each of the characters in turn.

"Are the others dead?" asked Silwen, her eyes wide.

Edward nodded and said, "Yes. And unfortunately, the Vulturi already know. They must have implanted something in one of them to keep track of them. When Demetri died, Aro decided to call us with a cell phone and tell us that he was returning. He should be here quickly to discuss matters with Voldemort. So we will be going, now. I'd prefer if they didn't find out about Reneesme. Good bye, Miss Snape." Edward held out his hand and Silwen shook it, shocked again at how cold it was.

Smiling she said, "Good luck, and...thank you. For helping."

Bowing in a small tease, the Edward and his family and...allies disappeared into the chilly night.

Crack, went a branch behind her. Whirling around, she pulled out her wand and nonverbally cast, "_Immobilius_!"

She heard a body fall to the ground and a voice curse. Smirking, she walked over to where the noise had come from and tripped over the body. Soft silk met her fingers, feeling like...an Invisibility Cloak. Potter. So he was going to die after all... With a flick of her wand, she took the spell off and helped him awkwardly to his feet.

"Sorry, you startled me," said Silwen.

"Do you always hex anything that makes a noise?" asked Harry calmly.

"When I'm at the end of my sanity, yes. ... You've finally seen the memories, then? Don't worry, I haven't."

"Walk with me for a bit? I'd like to approach him on my own," he whispered.

"All right, I'll walk with you to the forest's entrance and meet you later... Harry, you do know what you're doing, don't you?" she asked worriedly. "You're not dying just to save Granger, Weasley, and the others?"

"No," snapped Potter. Then quickly, he softened his voice. "Your uncle. I-I'm-I'm so sorry, Silwen. He-he left an extra memory inside him, talking directly to me. ... Is it true that you've been doing Occlumency since your fourth year?"

New tears started to flow, but Silwen responded in a smooth voice, "Yes, why?"

"...Occlumency can sometimes cancel out the effects of Veritaserum. He found out just before Voldemort discovered Snape's true colors."

Silwen stopped walking and stared at what she imagined was his face, her knees wobbling fiercely. "He-he never s-said. Never t-told m-me," she said in a broken voice. "Why didn't he say anything?" she sobbed, falling to her knees.

Bending down beside her, Harry answered, "Severus Snape didn't know if it would work with you. ... You consumed so much...But through various tests he preformed, he did discover that it was possible if your Occlumency skill was high enough. He thinks yours is." Helping Silwen to her feet, he patted her awkwardly on the back and continued, "Er, this is the forest entrance. I-I'll meet you at my death."

Her face still wet, she nodded, thanked him and continued. Smirking, she _accio_-ed Bellatrix Lestrange to guide her to the Dark Lord.

Furious at suddenly finding herself away from Voldemort, Bellatrix wipped out her wand. "_Cru-_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" defied Silwen, picking up the woman's wand. "If you take me to him, I promise to give it back to you, _Bella._"

Snarling, Bellatrix slapped Silwen violently on the cheek, catching the girl's wrists as she fell. "Pathetic little girl. I never did understand why the Dark Lord wanted you so much. In any case, he's quite happy to be rid of you now." Bellatrix snatched her wand back, also taking Silwen's, gripped Silwen's wrists and dragged her behind on the ground. "_Silencio!_" spat Bellatrix, not wanting to listen to the brat anymore. Bam! A jagged rock hat hit Silwen in the head, knocking her unconscious, much to Bellatrix's satisfaction.

Finally, Bellatrix let go and walked away, over to the Dark Lord. She handed him Silwen's wand and when Voldmort asked something, she pointed sharply over at the heap on the ground, Silwen. Voldemort smirked and walked to Silwen, turning her over so that she faced up, clearing her hair, face, and clothes of dirt and leaves with his own fingers. Slowly, he stroked her face with a, tracing the faint remnants of the slap.

It would be a pity to send her off so quickly. Particularly if she was sleeping. He had enjoyed watching her squirm, watching her eyes grow dim in submission. Part of him wondered at the constant battle she had always fought against him. No matter what he did, the girl seemed to spring back up after a short period of terror and depression. Perhaps he'd only lend the girl to Mr. Tick-Tock, have him train her into submission then take her back...

"Master of Time," said Voldemort silkily calling the Time Lord over, "I propose a change in my offer. If you break her spirit, I will give you part of my glory in reigning over this world."

Grinning, the Master strode over and dipped his head down. "Brilliant. I only like them when they have spirit to crumble. After that, they get boring and I usually abandon them in the Arctic once that happens...But the girl's blood is very useful and I might keep her longer..."

"I'd let you visit her, Master," compromised Voldemort, combing the girl's hair. In her sleep, Silwen shuddered, rolling away from the two of them who were crouching over her.

"I think we should have our fair share of the girl as well, Voldemort," came a new voice.

"Aro! What a surprise. Have you come to watch the Wizarding World fall after all?" asked Voldemort, standing.

In cold anger Aro spat, "No, Mr. Riddle. My vampires are dead. Right now, all of them are burning on the school's grounds. You are now indebted to me and as payment, I want the girl. Alive so I always have her blood supply."

Calmly, the Dark Lord faced Aro. "Might I suggest sending you ten vials of her blood every month?" he suggested lightly in a cold voice.

Aro approached the two of them and bent down to Silwen, taking her hand in his. With a jolt, Silwen woke up, meeting Aro's milky eyes and sharp smile. "Very well, Voldemort. I expect my first package on June 2nd." He let go of Silwen after smiling at her like she was his grandchild, and he too, disappeared like the other vampires of his kind.

Breaking the tension, Bellatrix walked over to the group. "My Lord. My Lord...An hour is almost finished. And no sight of Potter."

Abruptly, Voldemort rose, taking Silwen's hand and dragging her up with him. "We will deal with your future, _later,_" he whispered into her ear, taking his hand out of hers and putting it around her shoulder, fingering her hair, reveling, for perhaps the last time, at her shudders and muted yelp. Bella must have Silenced her. Very well. "I thought he would have come. I expected him to come." The hand on Silwen's shoulder clenched, his nails drawing crimson crescents on her skin. "I was, it seems...mistaken."

"You weren't." Instantly, Harry was appeared. The Invisibility Cloak hidden somewhere, most likely.

"HARRY! NO!" Hagrid's voice broke the silence, echoing what Silwen wanted to cry out, even though she knew Harry knew what he was doing.

"NO! NO! hARRY, WHAT'RE YEH–?"

"QUIET!" screamed Rowle, one of the Death Eaters, putting a Silencio charm on Hagrid, cutting off the rest of the half-giant's cries.

Silwen looked around. So many had come here, in the front stood Narcissa and Lucius, both looked exhausted, war-torn, and defeated. Somehow, she had to tell them that Draco was alive.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said in almost a whisper, yet still spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived. Watch, little Slytherin, as he becomes famous for becoming The Boy Who _Died_." His wand rose, fingers wrapped soundly around it.

Several meters away, Harry stood there calmly, with a look of acceptance on his face.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" shouted Voldemort.

A flash of green light, and Harry Potter was dead, Voldemort unconscious on the ground.

Jauntily, the Master took Silwen's hand and started taking her away when Bellatrix shot, "_Pertrificus Totallus_!" at his back. Bellatrix rushed over sliced her knife over Silwen's finger and let a few drops of blood drop into the Master's mouth. Then, Bellatrix sealed the wound, pushed Silwen away and muttered, "_Incarcerus_!" at the Master, and took the Freezing spell off. "If I set you free, will you still go after the Dark Lord's slave?"

An insane grin on his face, the Master responded, "I'll not rest until she rests with me. I promise you that. I won't leave until I have her."

A snarl graced Bellatrix' lips and she shouted, "You'd kill the Dark Lord to get her? Jepordize his plans?"

Dipping his head, the Master licked an awry drop of blood off his lips, sneering. "I always get what I want. And I want the girl. I'm not leaving until I have her. Now unbind me, _human_, before I get angry!"

"_Avada Kedavra_!" screeched Bellatrix at the Master, wielding her wand like a dagger in the air.

The Master went limp in his bonds, the smirk looking now like it was pasted on, his eyes empty. Suddenly, he started to glow, yellow wispy mist leaking off him.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" screamed Bellatrix again, out of shock. Once more, she shrieked, "_Avada Kedavra_!" Just to be sure.

Yellow glow fading, and the mist evaporating, the Master lay still again. _He's...dead_, thought Silwen in revulsion.

Death Eaters circled around Voldemort, but she managed to weasel through when a hand grabbed her and drew her out again. Narcissa, who was holding Silwen's wand in her fingers. "Draco. Is he alive? Is he in the castle?" she whsipered, white with terror at the answer.

Hugging her, Silwen nodded twice into Narcissa's chest, not letting go as the frightened woman held her tightly, whispering a "thank you,".

Faintly, she heard Bellatrix order the Death Eaters to back away as she knelt beside him, murmuring something in his ear.

"My lord, let me–" began Bellatrix.

"I do not require assistance," said Voldemort, dusting his robes off. "Where is my little Slytherin? Silwen, heel," he ordered, watching as Silwen shakily walked away from Narcissa, back to Voldemort.

"That will do," snapped Voldemort, rising.

"The boy...Is he dead?" Silence. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead," he ordered, pushing Silwen towards Harry's body.

This was it. This was the time to use her Occlumency. As if in a trance, Silwen emptied her mind and went through the steps that Uncle Severus had taught her three years ago, steps that were now second nature. "Thank you, Uncle," she whispered, the Silencing Charm having worn off.

Kneeling down by Harry, she put a hand on his chest and, astonished, felt his chest rise and fall. "Thank you, Harry. I'll try to see if it works." She then regained her feet and walked over, concentrating all her energy on her answer.

"Dead," she said, looking into Voldemort's eyes, daring him to question her honesty.

"As well as the Master, my Lord," murmured Bellatrix. "I am sorry if you still needed him."

Voldemort cackled, smirking at both of the bodies on the ground. "You see?" he shouted at his Death Eaters and allies. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch! _Crucio_!"

Harry's body was lifted into the air, once, twice, and a final time. The small opening in the forest ricocheting with the scorns and jeers of Voldemort's followers mixed with Hagrid's grieving cries and Silwen's sobs of joy. She had...lied!

"Now," declared the Dark Lord, "we go to the castle, and show them what has become of their hero. Who shall drag thebody? No– Wait–"

The forest echoed with laughter again as Hagrid was set free, making the ground tremble.

"You carry him," murmured Voldemort. "He will be nice and visible in your arms, will he not? Pick up your little friend, Hagrid. And glasses–Snape, put on the glasses–he must be recognizable–"

Trembling, she retrieved Harry's glasses, repaired them with a spell and gently placed them on his forehead.

"Move. And Silwen, at my side, please. I wish for everyone to see where Severus Snape's niece places her loyalty."

"Y-yes, my Lord," she croaked, walking beside him, holding back her tears, still in shock of what she had done...and who she had done it to, deaf to the sorrow-wracked sobs of Professor Hagrid.

They walked forward, meeting centaurs who stood in the protection of the trees, despite Hagrid's angry accusations.

"Stop." Voldemort paused and magnified his voice. "Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone." At the word hero, he jibed his elbow sharply into Silwen's waist, smirking at her groan. "The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters and other followers outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents, and grandchildren, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together."

Silence met Voldemort's speech, and even Hagrid's sobs quieted to a dull roar. Nagini draped over the Dark Lord's shoulder, hissing triumphantly in her ear. Silwen jumped away, only to be pulled closer by Voldemort's arm.

"Stop."

From out of the castle poured the defenders of Hogwarts, staring at Hagrid and his burden.

"NO!" screamed Professor McGonagall. In response, Bellatrix laughed, glorifying at McGonagall's misery.

"No!"

"No!"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Ron and Hermione's shouts echoed around the Hogwarts entrance hall in broken sounds. However, their cries started the crowd off, screams, wails, sobs and cries, swears of revenge, insults flew from their mouths. But they were broken off.

"SILENCE!'' bellowed Voldemort, sending flashes into the air.

Slowly, gently, Hagrid lowered Harry to the grass at Voldemort's feet.

"You see?" cried Voldemort, walking back a few steps. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" screamed Ron, red in the face, ruining the charm and letting the cries loose a second time.

Another bang sounded. "He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," hissed Voldemort, relishing his lie, "killed while trying to save himself–"

Vengence racing through him, Longbottom pushed through the crowd and ran straight at Voldemort, only to be hit by a Disarming spell. He fell to the ground and Voldemort picked up his wand.

"And who is this?" he hissed, everyone still able to hear his words. "Who has volenteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Ecstatic, Bellatrix responded, "It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," replied the Dark Lord, looking appraisingly at the blood-covered boy struggling to get on his feet.

Neville looked at Silwen, his eyes wide, seeing the fear and pain, the tear tracks on her face. "What are you doing?" he whispered, appalled.

"I'm his slave..." answered Silwen, but the Dark Lord put a hand over her mouth, drawing a sharp breath from her, and went on talking.

"_Help me kill Nagini,_" mouthed Neville as Voldemort was distracted for a moment by something in the crowd.

"But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?"

"So what if I am?" said Neville, defiantly, jutting out his chin.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," spat Neville. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, turning to the crowd, breaking the silence and receiving a cheer from the crowd. A cheer that died quickly.

"Very well," said the Dark Lord silkily. "On your head, be it," he murmured, dictating Neville's death in a quiet whisper. Voldemort flicked his wand at the castle, and waited until the tattered Sorting Hat flew to him and rested in his fingers.

"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School. No more houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won't they, Neville Longbottom?" Flicking his wand again at Neville, who froze, he jammed the hat on the boy's head.

Small chaos broke out, but was immediately terminated by a handful of Death Eaters casting Silencio Charms. The hat burst into flames on top of Neville's head, and Neville remained stuck, unable to do anything. Silwen watched, terrified as the flames started to descend when pandemonium erupted.

"HAGGER!" shouted a giant, fast approaching, surrounded by centaurs shooting arrows at the Death Eaters.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Harrry disappear from sight. _He must have used the Cloak,_ she thought.

In front of her, she watched as Neville rose to his feet, taking the hat off, drawing from it a silver sword with a rubied handle. Gryffindor's sword...A small Lumos spell went off in her mind. Adrenaline running through her veins, she pulled her wand out and shouted, "_Carpe_ Retractum!" a rope emerged from her wand and she threw it around Nangini, pulling it towards Longbottom with every ounce of remaining strength that she had. The snake flew off of Voldemort onto the ground, right at Neville's feet.

With a swish, Neville let the sword fall on top of Nagini, blade down, slicing the snake neatly in two. Voldemort turned to her, and Neville, firing a spell that was miraculously deflected from an unknown caster. Above, flying creatures soared pecking at the giants' eyes, helping Grawp in fighting them.

The fight entered the Great Hall, havoc led by Peeves and an innumerable group of House Elves. Tears pricked at Silwen's eyes as she instinctively started to look for Lucie before remembering that Lucie...was lying in a grave at Malfoy Manor.

Standing at the wall, under another Disillusionment Charm, she watched, hexing every enemy she laid eyes upon from her apparent hiding place, right beside Voldemort, who wad dueling Slughorn, McGonagall and a tall, broad shouldered black-skinned man. She watched as Bellatrix almost killed the youngest Weasley, watched as the girl's mother step in, swearing, starting to duel Bellatrix herself with a cold fire in her eyes.

"You–will–never–touch–our–children–again!" Mrs. Weasly screamed while Bellatrix laughed.

A green light flashed, hitting Bellatrix in the chest. Bellatrix stared at Mrs. Weasley and...fell. Dead.

From his post, Voldmort let out a yell of fury and aimed a Killing Curse at Bellatrix's killer.

"_PROTEGO!"_ shouted Potter, ripping the Cloak off him.

Jubilant, cheering, shouts rang through the Great Hall, dying instantly as Potter and Voldemort circled each other.

Relieved, Silwen sank to the ground, zoning out the conversation between Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived Twice. Random snippets protruded through her self-created quiet. "Accidents!" came a screech from Voldemort.

"You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?" Silwen heard Harry Potter say.

"Is it love again?"

Again, Silwen let her mind rest, falling asleep until Voldemort began screaming, "You mean he was weak! Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"..."_Dumbledore is dead!_"

Silwen's eyelids began to close until two simultaneous cries echoed through the hall.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Voldemort's curse rebounded off Harry's, hitting him in the chest. Flying in the air then sprawling on the ground, the Dark Lord's body shriveled and paled. Voldemort was dead. Silwen lifted her Disillusionment Charm, looked at the fleeing followers of Voldemort, watched as the defenders swarmed Harry Potter, fell over and asleep.

* * *

Soft arms checked for a pulse, then wrapped around her, giving her a much needed hug. Tenderly, they picked her up and carried her to a private corner in the Great Hall.

"It's okay, Sil," said Draco holding Silwen to him, crying along with her, falling to his knees as she collapsed on top of him. "I have you and I'm _not _letting you go again." Sobbing into his robes, her arms wound around him, binding him to her. Everything was over. And yet, amidst the jubilant cheers, and royal feast she continued to cry, releasing her fear, pain, and grief in floods all over herself and Draco. Tears drenched his twenty galleon robes, fingers clutched and pulled at their hand-sewn strings, but Draco let her, drawing her in even closer.

All around them, people had started healing the wounded, taking care of their victorious dead, cleaning up the rubble of Hogwarts Castle when the feast was over. Trails of smoke rose into the sky out of the broken windows, looking like a rising phoenix from a distance.

A surge of empathy flowed through Draco towards Silwen, his beloved. She was so brave to stand up to the Dark Lord no matter how many lives he had taken from her. First Dumbledore's, second, her uncles, and lastly, her little elf, Lucie, a good friend of Dobby's. He loved the girl in his arms, and he told her so, murmuring in her ear and feeling her nod shakily, her retching breaths starting to become smoother. These tears, he realized, were the tears that she had been forbidden to cry, staying repressed inside her with building pressure for the past year, working as Voldemort's slave.

"You're free, Silwen.. you don't need to be scared anymore. And you're brave. So, _so_ very brave," he murmured, his lips moving against the top of her head.

Gradually, her tears drained, and she lay limply against his chest, breathing lightly, exhausted. A soft night drew itself across the sky, quieting the commotion going on around the couple on the ground. Soon, a quiet embraced the couple, and in that quiet, the last drops of pain...ebbed away...letting Silwen find what she needed. Peace.

* * *

As she and Draco left the Great Hall, Neville stood up from his seat and shouted, "Everyone! Silwen Snape helped me defeat Nagini, told our friends in America about Voldemort's plans, and lied to the Dark Lord to protect Harry Potter! I think that she deserves at least one shout of 'hurrah' as thanks!"

The crowd obliged, standing up, yelling their appreciation, shooting fireworks with their wands, much to her embarrassed pleasure, holding Draco's hand for support while they walked through the applaud and toastings in her name.

"_Sonorus!_" she cast then said simply, "Thank you," and walked out, meeting Draco's waiting parents in front of the outside doors.

"Hey, wait!" called several voices, running up behind.

Silwen turned and saw River, the Doctor, Amy, Rory, Dr. Horrible, the Slayer, the Englishman and Eilonwy come towards her. "You go on with your parents," she told Draco, "I'll meet you at the manor."

Giving her a tight squeeze around the shoulders, he kissed her on the forehead and left her, walking over to his parents. She watched them walk down the trail out of sight, and smiled. Draco, her beloved, was _alive_. Alive and well.

"You have some explaining to do," said the Doctor, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"The Master is dead. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him when he said that he'd risk the ruination of Voldemort's plans to get me. His body is in the woods. Thank you for your army, Doctor, Amy, Rory...River," replied Silwen hugging each of them in return, giving the best one to River. "Your TARDIS is upstairs somewhere. It was moved during the battle to somewhere more secure."

"All right. So group, let's go! Our work here is done, and Voldy's gone moldy so let's have some fun! Oh, and we need to burn the Master's body. Amy! Amy Pond, fighter extraordinaire! Don't let me forget that! It's very important!" said the Doctor, giving Silwen a warm hand shake while looking over at a snogging Amy and Rory.

"Shut up," said River, smiling at the Doctor, giving Silwen a last hug.

Waving good bye at her, the Doctor's group walked off, more people joining them within the next few minutes. The Doctor really did have a large crew left!

"Hi. I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is Giles. He knew Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Lupin," said the petite blonde, holding out her hand.

Shaking it, Silwen introduced herself and asked, "What happened to the vampires? Drusilla, Spike and–" she stopped, seeing Mr. Giles shake his head.

"Spike and his girlfriend ran off. And the other one is...dead," responded Buffy, a blank expression on her face. An expression that Silwen knew all to well. Buffy loved Angelus. Angelus must have had a soul once, and must have loved Buffy back as well. ... Their fight had been very personal, and quite heated, she remembered.

"I'm so sorry," said Silwen.

"Er, thank you, Miss Snape for your message. It was quite helpful," said Mr. Giles, cleaning the soot off his glasses.

"Giles, let's go home," said Buffy.

"All right. Why don't you call up the Scooby Gang and we can leave?" said Giles, giving Silwen a hand shake and walking down the path, Buffy momentarily following, and lots of people following her.

"Xander! You said I was going to be PAID to do this! Where is my money?" she heard someone say to a teenage boy around seventeen years old.

"Anya, that was a lie. I lied to you so you'd come and help. Now let's go home..." replied the boy.

Silwen waved at them and then looked at Dr. Horrible, proudly.

"Dr. Horrible, I hope you were pleased with your weapons?" asked Silwen, impulsively hugging Dr. Horrible.

Grinning, the not so horrible doctor replied, "Um yes! Thanks for your idea. Oh, I have the really late results of the hair from our vampires."

"Oh?"

"Edward Cullen, according to the results is really human. He actually has a parasite inhabiting him, giving him the extra strength, speed and stuff. The only thing is, is that the parasite needs human blood to live on, hence creating a semblance of vampirism," explained Billy.

"And with the others?"

"Accoring to the tests, they are parasite free. I guess you could call them the 'real' vampires. Because, their genes are actually enhanced."

Grinning, Silwen thanked him, and said, "Er, Billy, how do you expect to get home?"

It was Billy's turn to grin and he responded, "Professor McGonagall offered me a job here. Muggle Studies. And I said I'd take it. I turned in my resignation form to Bad Horse a few minutes ago...So, me and my freeze ray will be staying here." He smiled at her as she congratulated him and returned to a table, finishing his plate of food.

Now, only Eilonwy remained.

"Snape."

"Tonks."

"Liar."

"I know! Isn't it great?" said Silwen, grinning excitedly.

"So how'd you do it?"

"I-Harry Potter told me something about Occlumency canceling the effects of Veritaserum. I only managed one word, but...I lied."

"Great! Now, I don't know if you saw the weather out side, but it's going to rain soon..."

Silwen looked through the doors, seeing a sun blazing victoriously in a cloudless sky then looked back at Eilonwy.

"Good. Send me a message patronus when it starts!"

"But Silly! It's starting now! Don't you see the water?" demanded Tonks, pushing Silwen outside. "Water is essential! You need water!"

Outside, the ground was dry, and still no clouds emerged.

"Yes...But I actually have somewhere to be, so I'll talk to you soon. And Eilonwy?"

Eilonwy let go of her friend, walked in front of her and asked, "Yes?"

"Thank you!" said Silwen hugging Eilwony. "Thanks for going with the twins. You brightened my day and...I'm so happy you're my best friend."

Then, before Eilonwy could react, Silwen scampered down the path under a Progeg Charm, and exited the school boundaries and Apparated to Malfoy Manor, a waiting Draco standing at the gate. She rushed into his arms, a single tear returning as she stood there, her head against his chest.

"Welcome home, Sil. That is, if you want to live here. My mother and father have agreed that you can since you don't really have a home anymore... And I have a question for you," murmured Draco, his lips brushing the top of her head. Silwen looked up at him, waiting, watching as he stepped away from her and knelt on one knee. Her eyes grew wide, and she watched as he held out his hand, curled around something small inside.

Slowly, he opened it. On his palm, glinting in the sunlight was a ring. A beautiful ring, slim, silver, with a green stone in the middle. His eyes dancing, Draco asked with blushing cheeks, "I love you, Silwen Astoria Greengrass Snape, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Smiling, Silwen responded, "If I still love you in three years." She walked over to him, and sat on his knee, leaning into him, breathing gently with her eyes closed. "Thank you for your offer to let me share your home, but I want to live on my own for three years, start up a business on Diagon Alley–a potion shop–and for three years be independent. You can visit me every day if you like either at my home on Spinner's End or at my shop once I have it."

Smiling, Draco nodded. "I can wait."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Any last words?


	34. Nineteen Years Later

A/N:

This isn't going to be long. Just, thank you, everyone for reading (and more)! This is the last chapter. So if you see that I've updated this story, it's for small clarifications/modifications. Noting other than that.

* * *

"Mum!" called Scorpius anxiously. "Mum, you said we would leave to the station ten minutes ago!"

Silwen Malfoy rose from her desk and walked over to her son, ready for his first year at Hogwarts. Chuckling, she mussed his hair and said, "Don't worry, we'll make sure you're on time. Let's go now, yes? Your father will meet us at the station, darling."

His eyes wide, Scorpius started to moan. "But Dad said he'd be here! He said promised!"

"And so he did, Scorpius. Don't yell at your mother," came a voice from the fireplace. Smiling and walking over to his wife, he asked, "How are you both?"

"I'm fine. Scorpius is..."

"Excited!" shouted Scorpius, making Silwen jump then smile lovingly at her son.

"So, shall we go then?" she asked, rubbing her rather pregnant stomach and walking out to the doors. They had decided to Apparate and teach Scorpius how to do a Side-long Apparition.

"YES!" said Scorpius, tugging his father's hand and pulling him outside after his mother.

"Continue like that, and we'll fly there," warned Draco, half-amused, half-irritated. "Now then, Scorpius, don't let go of my hand. Do you hear me? Sil, I'll see you in a moment." Draco returned Scorpius' strong grip with an even stronger one and together they Disapparated to Platform 9 3/4.

Moments later, Silwen appeared, dizzily taking a few steps to regain her balance. Draco's arm shot out to stabilize her and she gripped it, then slid her hand down to his and held it.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

She smiled, nodded, then looked at Scorpius, who was looking around the platform in awe.

People pushing trolleys, shouting to their families, waving good bye, crying and hugging, owls, cats and rats in cages hissing at one another, and of course the Hogwarts Express itself held the boy's avid attention. "Do you have my trunk, Mum?"

"Right here, darling. ...Oh, here's Harry's and Hermione's families," she said waving at them in a friendly manner, elbowing Draco to get him to give a small wave as well.

"That's Weasley's girl, Scorpius. Her name is Rose Weasley. Make sure to stay above her in all of your classes and Quidditch, if you play next year," whispered Draco, giving his son a last hug.

Scorpius turned, thinking to hug his mother for a last time before Christmas. However, she wasn't there. Silwen Malfoy had wandered off to her friends, and was arguing amiably with them.

"No, sorry, Ronald, but Scorpius has my reflexes in casting. He'll be best in at least dueling. Perhaps potions as well as he seems to have a knack for it too..."

"MUM! The train's leaving! You can talk to them later and I'm leaving now!" cried Scorpius, blushing when Rose smirked at him.

Silwen walked over to her son, bent down and hugged him close to her. "Be her friend, Scorpius. Try to get along with her and her cousins. I love you, and I will write to you every day. And if you aren't in Slytherin, your father and I will still be proud of you. Any house that gets you will never regret it. I promise," she whispered and kissed him on the top of his head. Standing, she gave him a little push and watched him and board the train. Wiping off a tear, she waved as the train whistled, and screeched into motion. In moments, it was gone.

"So, Malfoys, let the pretend battles begin," chuckled Hermione, hugging Silwen goodbye and slipping her hand through Ron's.

"May the best child win!" said Ginny, winking at her and smirking at Draco as she and Harry also left, Harry waving to Silwen and nodding stiffly at Draco.

"Untill Christmas, then!" said Silwen as the couples left through the barrier into the muggle train station.

"I'm never going to comprehend how you managed to become their friend," murmured Draco, wrapping his arm around her waist. "But I am happy you are," he amended after a moment's thought.

"Perhaps one day, when all of us have great-grandchildren, the six of us can all sit beside a burning fire and laugh at ourselves," said Silwen, smiling at her husband, and looking down at the child inside her.

Chuckling, Draco nodded. "So, dearest, let's go home."

It had been nineteen years since anyone could say that without fear, and as Silwen and Draco Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor, she realized just how grateful she was that she had come to terms with Harry, Ronald, Hermione, and the others. Contentedly, she smiled at her husband who bent down to kiss her lightly on the lips, and hugged him. "We're ok now," she whispered, sinking into his arms. Indeed, Silwen Snape Malfoy and the rest of the wizarding community were...safe. All was well.

* * *

So, credits roll...and here come the names of my dedicated readers and more!

**Reviewers:**

Blue Neutrino, this story would be half as good without you! You are amazing for reviewing almost every chapter! Thank you! :D

leafstone, thank you for reviewing more than once! Your encouragement helped! I'm so happy you liked it! :3

MarmaladeFever, you are wonderful and your Lucius Malfoy was wonderfully evil. I loved him!

CampHogwarts, what a brilliant person you are and I'm glad you liked my story!

LuciusBelyakov, your review was...so perfect and I selfishly wish you'd review more! XD I love hearing from you!

Asase, thank you for pointing out my simile use, it helped me get them under control!

QueenofNobodies, no it's not really a THG crossover, but Panem is mentioned a bit.

lilgenious, thank you! I was happy to see you reviewing it! Your comment on the paragraph separation really helped!

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**Favorite adders:**

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k9Angel! BlueNeutrino! leafstone! lightaqua!

...

To all of you, a very heartfelt thank you! I'm so grateful for everything!


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